What Lies Beneath
by Kineil D. Wicks
Summary: Wilson had a wonderful life before a stranger comes along and kidnaps him. Now he must fight his way through a strange world if he has any hope of getting home. Don't Starve rewrite of Flushed Away.
1. The Unusual Houseguest

**Hi everybody! It's a new **_**Don't Starve **_**story! :D**

**This was inspired madness when **_**Flushed Away **_**was on the TV a while back and I pictured Wilson in Roddy's role. Prepare for assorted strangeness.**

**Playing the role of Roddy St. James: Wilson Percival Higgsbury**

**Playing the role of-you'll just have to wait and see. ;)**

**_Don't Starve _****© 2013 Klei Entertainment**

**_Flushed Away _****© 2006 DreamWorks/Aardman Studios**

Wilson P. Higgsbury was _ready_ for the science exhibition _this_ year.

He had spent _ages_ perfecting his science device, testing it, and now it was ready, tucked away carefully under a tarp, ready to be wheeled out to glory. He was _ready_.

And he still had a week till the exhibition.

That didn't matter—there was always science to be done. He grabbed a few chemicals to begin a new test.

Five minutes later, he was wiping soot off of his face. Why did he bother with chemicals when he messed up so severely with them?

"Say, pal, you don't look so good."

Wilson started and spun around. There, on his cluttered couch sat some _guy,_ as brazen as if he owned the place. "I'm sorry, I don't remember inviting you in," Wilson returned, making sure his voice dripped with polite sarcasm.

"That's because you didn't," the guy said, pulling out a cigar from a breast pocket. "Kind of a dump here, don't you think?"

"I don't mind it. I _do_ mind you smoking in here, however." Wilson crossed over to the door and opened it. "I suggest you leave at once; I'm very busy."

"Yeah, you look it," the guy said, standing up and crossing over to the tarp. "What's under here?"

"AAAH! Don't touch that!" Wilson yelled, running over and plastering himself against the tarp. "That's very sensitive equipment!"

The guy shrugged and turned his attention to the rest of the flat. "Let's see, no bed, no kitchen—how do you live in this dump?"

Wilson straightened himself up, noting that he was about a head shorter than the stranger. "That is not your problem! Now if you don't like it, then I suggest you take my earlier advice and leave. As a matter of fact, why don't you leave anyway."

"Sure, sure," The guy said, clapping Wilson on the shoulder. "Be seeing you, pal."

And before Wilson could react, the floor beneath his feet opened up impossibly and he fell through.

"Watch your landing!" was the last thing Wilson heard before he was swallowed up by blackness.


	2. The Arrival

**Another chapter, mostly because the first one was so short. Enjoy Wilson's freaking out. :)**

**_Don't Starve _****© 2013 Klei Entertainment**

**_Flushed Away _****© 2006 DreamWorks/Aardman Studios**

Wilson fell, down, down, down through murky blackness, through darkness that made his insides curl with fear. He heard monstrous creatures screech a couple of times.

_I fell asleep I fell asleep_ he kept telling himself. _I'll wake up before I hit bottom—that's how these dreams work!_

At least, that's what he hoped.

And then everything opened up, and he hit icy water.

"_AAAAH!"_ Wilson screamed, flailing. "Help! I can't swim! I can't—"

He stopped, realized he could feel bottom, and stood up. "Oh."

And then he realized that he was in more trouble than he initially realized.

He was standing in filthy water, brick walls soaring above him and hiding the sun from him. It was dark and dingy and smelled vaguely.

"I'm…in…a sewer?" Wilson said slowly. But that was impossible! There were no sewers this big under London!

That he knew of. That existed. But…something about this place was eerie, sinister…not of this world.

A horrendous scream echoed to him.

Wilson returned it, fear making him seize in horror. "Oh no, oh no, I'll never get home, oh," he wailed, then slapped himself. "Stop it! Stop it!" he commanded. "Falling apart now is _not_ going to help you, Wilson P. Higgsbury, so shape up!"

It worked slightly. But then he felt something…some_things_…watching him. He glanced slowly over his shoulder to see….

Spiders.

They could only be spiders.

Big as his head, hairy, lots of big, white eyes, and gaping maws.

Wilson did the only thing applicable in his situation: he screamed in horror.

The spiders returned the sentiment, including the one that was clinging to the back of his vest _oh great jumping ions it was touching him __**get it off!**_

Wilson fled, hoping he was heading in the direction opposite of the scream and seeking to put as much distance between him and those monster spiders as he could. At some point he found a ledge to climb out of the water and made better time, although he didn't ease up in his fleeing. Every once in a while, he heard something whip behind him, like he had just missed an awful encounter with a nasty monster.

_Monsters don't exist monsters don't exist_, he told himself, although he had the feeling it wasn't applicable here.

And then he ran full into something that sent him sprawling back on the ground. He looked up to see what he had run into—

And immediately wished he hadn't.

It was…a corpse, he was going to say, emaciated to skin and bone, with an owl's head, sightless eyes—

And then the mouth extended horribly, and the thing released the awful scream that Wilson had heard earlier.

Wilson returned the scream and scrambled away, only making it a few feet before it dug its clawed hand into his ankle and dragged him back. He clawed frantically at the ground, trying to delay his fate—

And then he heard that same whipping noise he had heard earlier, followed by a muted thump.

He glanced back to see the owl-beast's head sitting on the ground, separated from its body. Wilson kicked the lifeless thing away from him, then kicked the body away from his ankle.

And then he saw what had done that to the monster.

It was a purple tentacle with green spots and wicked claws, and it was readying itself for another whip—

Wilson scrambled away, vacating the area just as the tentacle whipped again. He took a side turning he missed earlier, saw light at the end of the tunnel, poured on the speed—

And for the second time that day, found himself falling through the air.


	3. The City

**All right! Chapter three, and Wilson has officially arrived! :D**

**Loli-otaku, thanks for the review! It had been years since I watched ****_Flushed Away_****, but it's on my list of movies that I never get tired of.**

_**Don't Starve **_**© 2013 Klei Entertainment**

_**Flushed Away **_**© 2006 DreamWorks/Aardman Studios**

Wilson's fall this time was much shorter and interrupted by concrete.

"Ow," he moaned, pushing himself up. "What…."

He trailed off, awed by what he was seeing.

He was back in London.

No…no wait, there was the brick walls and ceiling of the otherworldly sewer…and everything looked cobbled together…but…it looked so much like the original!

Wilson stood up, nodding, understanding dawning on him. "I must be dreaming. That's it."

And with that, he slapped himself. Hard.

It didn't work.

"Ow," Wilson muttered, rubbing his jaw. He blinked and glanced around at the…people…there were _people_ down here?

Well, maybe _people_ was too strong a term. There were humans, sure, but there were…pig-men? Mer-things? Clockwork monsters? A walking _tree_? And those _spiders_ scuttling everywhere like they knew what they were doing!

He leapt back in alarm as he felt a presence close to him—one of the pig-men, this one wearing a clapboard. "The end is nigh!" it oinked.

Wilson blinked, confused. "Huh?"

In response, it pointed a hoof at a large metal door dominating one side of the brick wall. "Those floodgates won't hold forever! The great flood is upon us!"

Wilson nodded, giving a strained smile. "That's nice. Got to go."

But he bumped right into someone else when he turned to leave. This one, however, gave him a feeling of immense relief.

"Oh thank goodness, a constable," Wilson sighed, thanking his lucky stars. Not that he believed in luck.

"'Ere now, what's this?" The constable asked.

"Sir, this…_thing_ has been harassing me!" Wilson said, pointing at the pig.

"'Ello, Aberforth," The constable said.

"Morning, David," the pig-man said, then pointed at Wilson. "Keep an eye on this one, will you? He's a bit of a loony," it added in an undertone.

"I beg your pardon!" Wilson exclaimed as the pig-man ran off, proclaiming predictions of peril.

The constable grabbed his arm. "Now how about we get you a police escort back home?" he offered.

"Oh, that would be _wonderful_," Wilson agreed, following him. "I live in Kensington." He hesitated a moment, trying to figure out how to declare the general direction. "Up top?" he tried.

The constable stopped and looked at him. "Oh, you must be new here," he said, understanding dawning on him. "Sorry about your luck, chap, but you aren't getting back there."

Wilson pulled away from him, stunned. "I beg your pardon, but I refuse to accept that. It's scientifically impossible!"

"Suit yourself. But I'll be watching you," the constable said, pointing at him. "I get the feeling Aberforth is right about you."

"The pig?" Wilson asked in disbelief as the constable left. What kind of place was this, that the word of a barnyard animal was taken over that of a human?

He was aware of a presence at his shoulder, but was loathe to turn and look. It wasn't going away, though, so he fell to temptation and glanced over his shoulder.

He came face to face with one of those mechanical monsters that he had seen around. This one looked like a bishop crossed with a grasshopper, but with a lightbulb for a hat and a single eye in its head. It didn't seem perturbed by Wilson's rather girly scream—which he had elicited upon seeing it so close.

"I hear you're trying to go up top," it said in a clicky, clattery voice.

"Uh, yes?" Wilson responded, unsure how to handle such a strange being.

It glanced around before continuing in a low voice, indicating that the conversation was to remain confidential. "I know of someone who might—_might_, mind you—be willing to help you. But you've got to have something to offer in return."

Wilson blinked. "I uh, think I have some money here—"

"Not for me!" the thing said. "All I want is for you to never mention me to the Shadow Man if you have the misfortune to run into him."

Shadow Man? Strange…. "Deal. Who can help me get back home?"

The clockwork thing narrowed its eye. "The captain of the _Jammy Dodger_."


	4. The Jammy Dodger

**Chapter 4, and we get to see who fills the roles of Rita, Whitey, and Spike….On an interesting side note, a jammy dodger is actually a sort of cookie (for those like me who didn't know that).**

**_Don't Starve _****© 2013 Klei Entertainment**

**_Flushed Away _****© 2006 DreamWorks/Aardman Studios**

It was a darker section of the sewer world, one which forcibly reminded Wilson of the area he had encountered that one horrid owl-monster in. It did nothing for his nerves.

_"And remember, the name of the ship is the __**Jammy Dodger**__."_

Wilson turned to give the clockwork bishop a glare; it had leaned near a metal pipe in order to get that reverberating noise.

"Um, thank you," he said.

"_You're welcome!"_ it said into the pipe, then hopped away.

Wilson shook his head and gingerly began to make his way around the area, keeping an eye out for anything untoward. He spotted something that made him jump, but it turned out to be a crate. Seriously, the place was wearing his nerves thin, like there was frightening music….

He glanced down to see a trio of spiders providing the creepy music, with another one chanting _beware_ in time with it.

"Shoo," he told them, continuing on. His nerves were frayed enough as it was. He certainly didn't need spiders adding to it—

Hullo, what was that?

He glanced back at the stern of a boat he just passed—_The Jammy Dodger._

"Perfect," he muttered, clambering on board. Now all he had to do was find the captain and—

He spun around, startled. He could have sworn something moved behind him, on the ship. But he didn't see anyone….

And then something grabbed his ankles and hoisted him off the ground, knocking his chin against the deck as he went up.

As he fell limply still, he saw who had done this to him—or rather, _what:_ a mechanical hand attached to a crane device attached to the boat….

And being controlled by a person at the helm, concealed by shadows.

"AAH!" Wilson noised, then regretted it—his jaw ached from the impact it had sustained. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry for trespassing but I was told you could help me—"

"Will you _shut up?"_ the person asked, clicking a lighter.

The lighter's flame revealed what the voice suggested: it was a young woman.

She had dark hair pulled into pigtails, pale face, red blouse, and dark trousers held up by a belt. She was holding a flower pattern lighter and looking at him in such a way that if looks really _did_ kill, Wilson would have been long dead.

The mechanical hand dropped Wilson on the deck as the girl pulled some tarp down on the prow of the boat.

"What's going on?" Wilson asked, naturally perturbed. "Who are you? You're not the captain, are you?"

She held the lit lighter dangerously close to the tip of his nose before clicking it shut. "If you don't want me to burn you to a crisp, you'll be quiet, all right? There are people looking for me I'd rather avoid."

"Well," Wilson said, standing up and dusting himself off, trying to regain some decorum. "I can't imagine _why_ they'd want to hurt a dainty little number like you—_such_ a lady."

He stopped at the glare she was cutting him. "Fine," he whispered; now that he did, he could hear a boat approaching. "I'll be as quiet as a mouse, honest."

The girl nodded, satisfied, and resumed her careful watch of the waterway. Wilson resigned himself to a long wait of sitting quietly and leaned back.

A foghorn blared.

The girl whipped her head around to give him another killer glare. It took him a moment to divine why: he was leaning against the wire that activated the foghorn.

"Aah! I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Wilson yelped, leaping up and away from it—

And straight into a bucket, which made him lose his balance and fall, making an even worse racket.

The boat was fixed in a searchlight.

Wilson hoped whoever it was would hurry up and get there; he was afraid if he remained alone with this girl, she'd kill him and throw him overboard.

That hope vanished when the other boat pulled up alongside them. Something…_big_…landed on the boat and snatched both him and the girl up. Wilson was fairly certain he screamed.

He was absolutely certain when he looked up and saw that whatever the thing was, it only had one eye in its head.

"Would you mind not screaming like a little girl?" the girl groused.

"_Willow, Willow, __**Willow!"**_ some high wavery voice cackled. Wilson looked—

To see a living shadow slip off of the ship and scurry over.

He was certain that if he were standing and not being dangled by some one-eyed monster, the little shadow-thing wouldn't reach his waist. It looked to be all head and mouth, with two eyes and spikes and a slim little worm body with stubby limbs. And it was made entirely of shadow. That was impossible.

"Mr. Skits," the girl—Willow, the thing had called her—said, defiantly crossing her arms. "I don't remember inviting you on my ship."

"Oh heaven help me—_you're_ the captain?" Wilson asked her, momentarily distracted from impending peril by the revelation.

"Not anymore!" the shadow-thing—Mr. Skits—cackled, obviously pleased with itself (himself? Wilson wondered). "The Shadow Man owns this now!"

"No he doesn't!" Willow snapped. "Not unless he gets off that nasty throne of his and comes down here himself!"

"And why would he soil his hands like that?"

"Um," Wilson said, waving his hand; the blood was starting to pound painfully in his head from being dangled upside-down as he was. "If you don't mind, can I go please? I'm just an innocent bystander, I swear."

Mr. Skits narrowed his eyes at Wilson. "No! I don't like your attitude."

"He _did_ say _please_, Mr. Skits," something behind Wilson rumbled. It took Wilson a moment to realize it was the thing that was holding him.

Mr. Skits slapped himself in the forehead. "No, DC, we've talked about this."

"But—"

"_Enough!"_ Mr. Skits snapped. "Back to the matter at hand—boys," he said suddenly, alerting Wilson to the fact that there were other shadow-creatures around. "Search it!"

Wilson stared at the shadow creatures as they moved. Some looked like oversized ticks, while others looked like large-beaked birds. But it was entirely impossible!

"This can't be happening," Wilson reasoned for perhaps the third time that day. "Why me? I was just minding my own business—"

"You were trespassing on _my_ property," Willow interjected, with a pointed glare at Mr. Skits.

"I meant before that!" Wilson snapped.

One of those terrifying beaked-things scuttled over to Mr. Skits. "Sir? We can't find it sir."

Mr. Skits spun around and slapped the beaked-thing. "What do you mean, _you can't find it?_ We know she hasn't sold it yet!" he spun to Willow. "Where did you hide it?"

"I'm not telling," Willow said primly, crossing her arms.

Mr. Skits chuckled again. Wilson was beginning to really hate that sound. "Oh? Well we have ways of making you talk, dearie."

And he pulled a weathervane out of nowhere.

Wilson decided to forego the obvious violation of physics for the moment—the notion that a weathervane could be deadly….It was too laughable.

"And what's so funny?" Mr. Skits asked, suddenly in Wilson's face. "Or do you want to see how this Weather Pain works up close?"

"I'm sorry—weather-_pain_?" Wilson asked, still finding the whole thing funny. His nerves must have snapped, he realized.

Mr. Skits was giving him a closer look. "You're not from around here, are you?"

"No," Wilson said. Finally! Someone got it.

"No, he isn't," Willow said suddenly. "Look at him—the nice clothes, the hair, the smooth-shaven face—and you know why?" She narrowed her eyes. "Because he's an international jewel thief!"

"_What?"_

Wilson was glad to note that he wasn't the only one to squawk that out in disbelief. The beast they called DC lifted him up to get a better look—Wilson noted antlers this time around.

"He doesn't _look_ like a jewel thief," DC observed.

"All right, that's enough," Mr. Skits said, waving at DC to lower Wilson again. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way—"

"I'd recommend the easy way," DC said to Wilson.

"I don't," Mr. Skits said, pulling on some sort of string on the weathervane. "Because the hard way is so much more fun for me!"

Wilson suddenly had a premonition, one deep in his bones, that whatever that weathervane was supposed to be, he didn't want Mr. Skits to finish pulling on that string. Already the top of the weathervane was moving, eliciting a wicked noise from it.

Wilson glanced at Willow frantically. She pointedly looked away from him, but in doing so, he noticed a bulge in one of her pockets, one that couldn't have been caused by her lighter—he could see it on the deck.

"Hold on! Hold on!" Wilson said frantically. "I think I know where whatever you're looking for is!"

"_Don't you dare,"_ Willow hissed.

Mr. Skits stopped and cocked his head at Wilson. "And how would you know? You're really that jewel thief she was saying you were?"

"No! No," Wilson said, deciding not to point out that it was obvious what they were looking for when Willow accused him of being such. "It's just that, ah, you notice the uh, the _bulge_, in that pocket there?"

Mr. Skits glanced over and then gave a sharp nod to DC. DC shook Willow until the item in her pocket loosened and clattered to the deck.

Wilson sucked in a gasp—it was a goodly-sized gem, a ruby, maybe. No wonder they wanted it back so badly.

Mr. Skits, meanwhile, had snatched it up and was examining it, cackling with glee. He waved at DC, who promptly dropped Wilson and Willow.

Willow took this newfound freedom as an opportunity to throttle Wilson.

"Here now, none of that!" Mr. Skits said, indicating that DC could pick her up again. DC did so.

Mr. Skits scuttled over to Wilson and hugged his shoulder with one shadowy hand, using the other to indicate the gem. Wilson struggled not to shudder with distaste at the contact. "Oh, this is _great!"_ Mr. Skits said. "You're coming with us to the boss—I know he'd _love_ to meet someone cunning as you!"

Wilson glanced up at Willow, still glaring at him. "Your uh, your boss?" Wilson queried.

Mr. Skits released him and snapped his fingers. DC picked Wilson up and the troupe got onto the other boat. "Yes, our boss! You should feel honored! Not everyone gets to meet the Shadow Man!"

Wilson had a very sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.


	5. The Shadow Man

**Chapter 5, and we meet the villainous Shadow Man, based on ****_Them_**** and filling the role of The Toad. How will our intrepid heroes escape? Good question….This is an instance of _Don't Starve__'s _darker nature showing up.**

**Loli-otaku, thanks for the review! And I'm glad I got you laughing-this whole thing has been fun for me to write. :)**

_**Don't Starve **_**© 2013 Klei Entertainment**

_**Flushed Away **_**© 2006 DreamWorks/Aardman Studios**

Wilson soon found out that "DC" was short for Deerclops—the one-eyed beast that had been hoisting him and Willow all over.

He only found that out because DC seemed quite willing to chat (it surprised Wilson that the beast _could_) and Willow—the only human on the shadow-beings' ship—was pointedly ignoring him.

He noticed she was shaking, but from anger or fear, he didn't know.

"I've always wanted to see up top," DC was saying. "What's it like?"

"Um," Wilson gave it some thought. How to explain this? "It's very much like that city over there," he said, waving in the general direction of the cobbled-together place he had left. "Only much more…uh, unified."

DC scratched his head, confused.

"You'll have to forgive him," Mr. Skits said. "He's slow at the best of times, but use long words on him…."

Wilson was going to tell him that "unified" wasn't exactly a long word, but he noticed that Willow had suddenly stiffened up. He glanced up to see a tower situated near the floodgates, tall and precarious, but rather large. "Ah yes, that's our destination," Mr. Skits supplied. "You didn't expect the Shadow Man to be living down with the riffraff, did you?"

Wilson tried to smile but failed. Willow's concern was infectious…and something else….

_All I want is for you to never mention me to the Shadow Man if you have the misfortune to run into him._

The warning that that clockwork thing had given him—why would meeting this man be unfortunate?

Wilson had a sinking feeling he was about to find out.

* * *

><p>The tower was remarkably bigger on the inside, with so many electronics that Wilson's little scientist heart ached to try. A nudge from behind told him he'd have to wait.<p>

Mr. Skits scuttled ahead, gem in hand, towards a huge roaring fireplace that did nothing to warm the area. "Boss! Boss! We've got it!"

A horrendous shiver ran up Wilson's spine as he looked at the chair sitting in front of the fire. A throne, Willow had called it—and throne would be accurate, the way it looked, tall and sharp and…sticky. He didn't know why, but that adjective seemed to describe it. It was facing towards the fire and away from them; to its left was a small table with a bowl full of…of….

_Live rabbits?_ Wilson had an irresistible urge to do some science.

That urge died when an arm drifted lazily out from behind the chair.

The arm ended in a long-fingered hand with wicked-sharp claws which plucked up one of the frightened rabbits and returned to its hiding place. A high-pitched squeal coupled with a sharp snap indicated the rabbit's fate.

Wilson noted that he wasn't the only one who flinched at the display; Mr. Skits had visibly recoiled, as though worried that _he_ was the next one to get his neck snapped, while behind Wilson, DC muttered "nasty."

"B-boss?" Mr. Skits tried again, notably subdued. "We uh, we got the gem back, with Miss Willow…." He held up the gem for perusal. "A-and a nice young gent who seems perfectly smart…." Mr. Skits trailed off and quietly finished. "Please don't hurt me."

Whoever was sitting in the chair stood up and walked around. Wilson observed that the person was as tall as the chair, and mentally tabulated the person as being at least a head taller than himself. Mr. Skits recoiled, hand holding the gem still up. The person idly took the gem from him and strolled over, features obscured by the bright fire behind them.

Wilson stifled a gasp when the person came within a few feet of him.

He was looking at himself!

Same long face and nose, same dark eyes, same distinctive pointy hair from one too many explosions. And yet everything about the doppelganger was sharper, oozing menace in such a way that Wilson could never hope to match. The suit it was wearing seemed crafted from darkness, not allowing any light to reflect off of it. Yes, there was something visibly evil about the thing in front of him.

"Well well well," the doppelganger said—it even sounded like him! "And who is this?"

Wilson was incapable of answering at the moment—the very idea of talking to this violation of science made the words die in his throat.

"Uh, I believe he said his name was 'Millicent Bystander,' sir," Mr. Skits supplied meekly, a far cry from the bossy little creature he had been on the boat.

Despite the curdling fear in his stomach, Wilson felt his face crumple at the misnaming, and was opening his mouth to correct him when someone stamped hard on his right foot. Willow.

Unfortunately, the movement attracted the doppelganger's attention, prompting it to look at Willow instead. Wilson noted that the minute it looked away from him, it began to lose his features to shadow. It picked up some of Willow's features when it looked at her.

"Ah, Willow!" it said, not quite picking up her voice, but some of the vocal patterns. "Such a naughty girl! Don't you know these are dangerous?" it waved the gem under her nose before walking away. Wilson noted it fell into complete indistinction upon doing so. "Why, just one of these gems could cause an awful conflagration! But you probably knew that, considering your tendencies."

Willow just silently fumed, apparently uncowed by the shadowy person—

It clicked then. He was looking at the Shadow Man.

Wilson glanced at Willow for confirmation, but was distracted by the act of the Shadow Man tossing the gem onto a huge multicolored pile. Wilson had to squint to realize it for what it was—a pile of gems.

Fresh hate for the thing strolling around roiled in Wilson. It would have never have noticed if the gem had gone missing!

So how did it find out?

It returned to Willow and tapped her on the nose with one of those sharp claws. "That's three times this year you've tried to steal something from me—I didn't think you had a kleptomaniac streak in you."

"Consider it payment for breaking every bone in my dad's body," Willow shot back, voice dripping with hate.

The Shadow Man smiled wickedly, the act of doing so distorting the face till it was painful to look at. "It's not _my_ fault—the man should have known how to avoid defenestration."

It walked around her, as though through with conversing with her, and returned to Wilson, mimicking his appearance again. "And you—I get the feeling you're new around here."

"I just uh…." Wilson had to literally cough the words out. "I thought I'd drop in."

Wilson was unwilling to share more than that with the thing. Unfortunately, there was another thing he had shared with.

"He says he's from up top," DC supplied, something in its tone suggesting that it was trying to look as small as possible.

The Shadow Man looked at DC, momentary confusion on its face. But then understanding dawned on it, and it looked back to Wilson, that horrible smile now marring Wilson's mimicked features.

"Oh, how _splendid!" _it voiced, putting a hand on Wilson's back and steering him away from the others. Wilson's momentary flirtation with the idea of running evaporated when he felt claws dig in. "I suppose you'd like to go back there, wouldn't you?"

Wilson nodded slowly, unsure what to make of the thing's statement. It continued, "I personally would _love_ to return you there—would love to go myself—but I can't."

Wilson got past his fear—and the feeling of his hopes being dashed—enough to ask "Why not?"

"Well, it's impossible!" The Shadow Man replied, then straightened one of Wilson's lapels; the feeling of claws near his neck made him uncomfortable. "Ah, but I see you are a man of science—it's _improbable_," it corrected with a sly grin. "I'm afraid a trip here is one-way."

Its reference to science kick-started Wilson's brain. "Wait—there was a man who sent me here—"

"Ah yes, Maxwell," The Shadow Man said, adopting a pensive stance. At the mention of the name, a different set of features flitted across its face—that of the man from Wilson's flat. "I had _heard_ he had beat the system—but obviously at a cost; otherwise, why would he have sent _you_ here?"

"Maybe because you make him do it," Willow shot from across the room.

The Shadow Man shot her a glare, but Wilson silently thanked her; her accusation snapped Wilson out of potentially agreeing with the thing in front of him. He resisted pulling away while it was distracted—he needed to be clever here.

"Well, I suppose if I'm…here to stay, I might as well make the most of it," Wilson said, all cordial gentleman. "I don't suppose you'd mind volunteering one of your…entourage to give me the tour? So I can make myself at home."

The Shadow Man pulled away and scratched at its chin, examining Wilson. He resisted the urge to run right then and there, instead affecting a cordial stance and hoping that his legs weren't trembling _too_ much.

"I don't get the feeling you trust me," it said finally.

There was something in its tone, something that notably shifted from before, that made Wilson's muscles scream with the urge to run. It took all he had to remain there with a pleasant smile, although some part of his mind informed him he was crushing his own hands from the tension.

"I don't see why—as you said yourself: I'm a man of science. I accept the facts presented to me until science shows me otherwise. I remember how far I fell, and as I see no means of going any higher than this…_lovely_ place you have here, I have no choice but to believe that what you say is true: I'm here to stay." He allowed a little of his worry to show. "Uhm, by the way, you wouldn't happen to know what the rent is in that city, do you?..."

There was something inscrutable in the Shadow Man's face.

Suddenly, it spun back to the group.

_"SKITS!"_ it bellowed, face shifting into shadow and opening horribly.

"Yes sir! Right away sir!" Mr. Skits groveled, scuttling over, keeping his body low to the ground.

"Tell me, Mr. Skits," The Shadow Man said, back to mimicking Wilson, although the small smile on its face was one Wilson hoped never to have. "Where did you find this…_charming_ young man here?"

Mr. Skits gulped audibly. "Ah, we found him on Miss Willow's boat, sir."

"Mmm," The Shadow Man noised, then turned back to Wilson. "Enlighten me: _what_ were you doing on Miss Willow's boat?"

Wilson mentally backpedaled, sensing impending doom. "I uh, ah, yes," he stammered. "Since I wasn't aware that I couldn't get back to ah, 'up top', at the time, and noting the ah, the aquatic nature of this area, I thought that I might perhaps…charter a boat?"

There was something dangerous in that smirk, as though it had caught him in a lie. "Mr. Skits, where did you find Miss Willow's boat?"

"I-in Spider-Scuttle-Slipway, sir," Mr. Skits stammered.

"Ah. Tell me, my good sir," it said to Wilson. "There were _plenty_ of other reputable boats within the city proper. As a matter of fact, there were plenty on the way to that fairly out-of-the-way location. Why Miss Willow's specifically?"

Wilson inhaled deeply, collecting his thoughts, but all he could come up with was "Must have missed them." He resisted slapping himself in the face and continued. "I was ah, turned around, you see, and still a bit rattled…."

The Shadow Man narrowed its eyes at him, causing Wilson to trail off into silence. "I think you are lying to me, my good sir," it said finally. Wilson prepared for the end.

He was surprised when instead, the Shadow Man put an arm around his shoulder. "However, I feel that we can work past all that. I can make sure you're well set in this _marvelous_ city of mine, you can even have whatever you ask for free of charge. However, I have _one_ thing I want you to do."

With that, it produced an axe and pressed it into Wilson's hands. Wilson looked up to realize that the Shadow Man had walked him back over to the group; he was now face to face with Willow.

"Kill her," it said, pointing. "Kill her, and I'll forget this whole debacle ever happened. It's your life or hers: think about it."

Wilson felt like there was ice in his chest. Kill her? That went against every grain in his body!

_The Shadow Man will kill you if you don't._

But it was against the law!

_The law from back home doesn't apply here._

It was against moral standards!

_Does she look like she'd hesitate if your roles were switched?_

Well, no….

_Then what's the problem? Either you kill this girl whom you barely know, or you **both** get killed._

He was a scientist—there had to be a logical way out of this!

_How? They outnumber you ten to one._

Maybe Willow—

_How would you telegraph it to her?_

She's smart—

_And she'd leave you high and dry at the first opportunity. She was going to kill you on the boat!_

But then again, considering who she was avoiding….

_And you'd have never have run into this mess had you avoided her._

Well, how was he supposed to know that?

_It doesn't matter now, does it? Now it's either you or her—live with her blood on your hands, or die with your conscience clear._

What kind of a choice—

**_Enough._**_ You can see perfectly well that they're getting impatient. Any second now, and it won't matter what you decide._

But there's got to be another way—

**_There isn't!_**_ It's either you or her. You've got the weapon; she's defenseless. You have a perfect out right here—**NOW KILL HER!**_

Wilson flinched—

And in that moment, made his decision.

He swung—

Willow flinched away—

But Wilson wasn't aiming for her.

No, he was aiming for the one who had put him in this position—

The Shadow Man caught the axe by the handle, stopping it dead.

"I'm sorry you feel that way," it said in a silky predator's voice.


	6. The Frozen Wastes

**As it turns out, it's hard to repurpose a freezer to fit human proportions and yet still fill the same role as the film. Fortunately, ****_Don't Starve_**** has its own peculiarities.**

_**Don't Starve **_**© 2013 Klei Entertainment**

_**Flushed Away **_**© 2006 DreamWorks/Aardman Studios**

"This is where I store former enemies," The Shadow Man said as some shadowy minions opened a large steel door. "I'm sure you'll find it diverting."

Wilson felt his muscles seize at the blast of cold air that assaulted him. It was a freezer—

But what a freezer! If he didn't know any better, he'd have thought it was a portal to a frozen wasteland in the north!

But that was—

_Impossible. Yes, Mr. Higgsbury,_ Wilson thought bitterly. _We've covered what's possible and impossible. Start thinking of a way to escape this place._

He glanced around, but felt his eyes drawn to some icy shapes within the freezer. People. Frozen solid.

And then….

Wilson saw that there were no definable edges to the freezer, and felt with absolute certainty—with the same certainty he had felt on Willow's boat—that if they were to go in there and the door were shut, they'd never get out.

He had to think fast.

"Willow," he muttered in an undertone.

"_What?"_ she hissed.

"Your lighter. When we walk by that edge, drop it."

"_Are you crazy?"_

"_Do it_. Or you'll wish I _had_ killed you," he added, glancing up at the freezing wastes waiting for them.

"I hate this thing," Wilson heard Mr. Skits mutter.

"I don't mind it," DC rumbled.

"Of course _you_ don't! You used to _live_ in it!"

Fortunately, Mr. Skits' screech covered the sound of Willow dropping her lighter.

Wilson fell into two feet of snow once they crossed the threshold. He gripped his sides and rubbed vigorously in an attempt to stave off the cold, but it was failing. Why had he shaved that morning?

He turned—noticed Willow in the same dire straits—back to the Shadow Man's lair. The Shadow Man was standing well away from the cold winds and waving jauntily.

"Good bye!" It chimed, still using Wilson's voice. "So sorry about the cold reception, but you know how it is!"

DC heaved the door closed, leaving them in darkness and cold.

Almost.

Willow's lighter had done just what Wilson had hoped—it stopped the door before it closed completely, leaving a sliver of light hanging impossibly in the twilight air.

"H-h-how long d-d-you think they'll w-w-watch that door?" Wilson chattered.

"I d-d-don't know," Willow retorted, barely understandable. "Th-this is a f-f-first for me."

Wilson shook his head and struggled through the snow. It didn't matter if they were watching the door or not—they couldn't handle more than a few minutes in this freezing cold.

The bottom of the sliver of light barely touched the top of the snow; Wilson glanced at the bottom to see Willow's lighter (he was beginning to become very fond of the object) holding it open.

He put his arm through, stepped up, and began to struggle with the door.

"You're n-n-not going to get that op-open," Willow chattered. "You s-s-s-saw how DC struggled with it."

Wilson tried to focus on squeezing through—difficult considering there was nothing on the frozen side to anchor him: no wall, no door…a true portal. "Well, I d-d-don't have to get it th-_that_ open, n-n-now do I?"

He struggled for a few more minutes before Willow started shoving at him, allowing him to get some purchase and worm his way through. "Th-thank you," he said.

"D-d-don't thank me—just d-d-don't leave me here," she replied.

Wilson was now fully in the doorjamb. He started shoving, bracing himself and trying not to think of a bug being squished.

It was an eternity, it felt like, but Wilson was glad to note that the door was more unwieldy than bloody heavy—it didn't insist on re-shutting itself if he relaxed for a moment. He noticed at one point that Willow had climbed up and was trying to help—

"That's enough," Wilson said suddenly. "We've got it open enough that we can squeeze through—now let's go."

They started shuffling through, Willow pausing to pick up her lighter, when Wilson noted that the door was beginning to shut again. He braced himself and shoved at the door, keeping it open. "Miss Willow, go," he said, strained.

She squeezed by him, thankfully not staying to argue the point. He squeezed out moments later, thankfully narrowing escaping a messy fate as Wilson-flavored jelly.

Wilson took a few seconds to catch his breath and reorient himself in the dim environment. He was still cold, but warming, and he wanted to find Willow and get out of there before—

"I'm going to have to kill you myself, aren't I?"

The Shadow Man was heading right for him.


	7. The Escape

**Chapter 7, and we're back to the movie's humor for the most part. Yay!**

**_Don't Starve _****© 2013 Klei Entertainment**

**_Flushed Away _****© 2006 DreamWorks/Aardman Studios**

Wilson frantically scrambled away, but the cold numbing his limbs meant that his progress wouldn't be enough. Already, the Shadow Man was practically on top of him—

"Hey!"

They both looked up to see—

Willow.

She was up on one of the scaffolds, with the ruby back in her hands.

"The prize returns to me!" She shouted, then kissed the gem. "Thank you, good-bye!"

It was suddenly evident to Wilson how the Shadow Man knew she had been the thief all this time.

_Wait—maybe she's distracting it so I can get away!_

Indeed, the Shadow Man was livid at the sight of her getting away, screeching orders to its underlings to _go and get her already—_

Wilson took the opportunity to scramble away. He spotted a flight of stairs and clattered up them, unfortunately attracting the attention of the Shadow Man.

"And where do you think _you're_ going?" it snarled, pursuing him. Wilson redoubled his speed and hoped he didn't slip and fall—

"Ow!"

"Hey!"

He had run smack into Willow, up on the platform in front of a large window. She shoved him back, knocking him down, and scrambled up on the ledge. Wilson followed her example after a quick glimpse of an upside-down Shadow Man.

"What's the plan?" Wilson asked, glancing back frantically. By good fortune, the Shadow Man had slipped right into the fate Wilson had been dreading—its foot was stuck between two metal stairs. "Please tell me we have a plan!"

"We?" Willow said, throwing something at the shadow monsters swarming up the other flight. It burst into a swarm of bees and began stinging them. "I don't recall teaming up with _you!"_

Wilson gave a cry of indignation, but Willow was already busy with some new plot, pulling out some big cable—

"_No! Not the master cable!"_

Wilson spun around to see the Shadow Man rip its leg out of the stairs, dripping some black material, form oozing menace—

Wilson spun around. Willow was wrapping the cable around what looked like a power line, getting ready to zip away—

He made a snap decision and leapt after her.

"Augh!" Willow cried as Wilson managed to catch her belt. "Get off of me! Let go!"

Wilson was thankful she couldn't get the angle to kick at him.

That thankful feeling vanished when he felt the belt giving way.

"No! No! Don't break!" he wailed, painfully aware of how far away the ground was. "There are things I want to do! Experiments I want to perform! Sights I want to see!"

The belt broke—Wilson scrambled to get a hold of Willow's legs—

And realized her pants had fallen down when her belt broke.

"This wasn't one of them," he muttered, face boiling.

"Hey!" Willow exclaimed, naturally indignant. She thoughtlessly reached down to yank her pants back up—

Which meant the cable wasn't properly being held.

"Oh no," Wilson breathed, in that singular moment before gravity took over.

And then they were falling.

* * *

><p><em>"After them! Don't let them get away!"<em>

"Sir, yes sir, right away sir!" Mr. Skits chattered anxiously, ignoring the bees stinging him for a moment and biting one of the nearby Crawling Horrors. "You! Get them!"

It scuttled off, but in its pained fugue, ran straight off of the ledge.

"Gah—DC!" Mr. Skits called, turning. But the big beast was busy batting away bees, not paying attention to what was around him—

And backhanded the Shadow Man.

Instantly, everything fell silent. Even the bees halted their assault, realizing that _this was not a good thing._

The Shadow Man ground his jaw, working it back into place. His silence was worse than anything he could have done—it was the anticipation of coming pain, is what it was, Mr. Skits realized.

And then he exploded into a spiky mass of fury, ready to flay them alive—

"DC!" Mr. Skits called again, throwing a hapless Terror Beak to keep the Shadow Man busy. Mr. Skits tried to ignore the howls of pain as the shadow creature was ripped to shreds—DC had been a rare find in those frozen wastes, and the Shadow Man was too furious to see straight. He might kill one of their best assets without even realizing it. And whose fault would it be when the Shadow Man recovered and saw what had happened? Ah, that would be poor Mr. Skits', thank you very much.

So his best bet for survival was getting DC out of there and after those two _miscreants_, and away from the Shadow Man. Who knew? Maybe they'd catch them again (they had already done it once!) and wouldn't the Shadow Man be so happy and not want to instantly kill them. Yes, that would be good.

They were on the ledge now—there were those two zipping away, then falling—oh, no, don't go splat, then who would the Shadow Man take his anger out on?—oh good, they landed on one of the pipes criss-crossing the airspace above the city. Now for the little matter of getting over there without going past the still-raging Shadow Man and hoping they didn't lose them—

Mr. Skits was suddenly aware of DC grabbing him. "DC, what are you—_hey!"_

DC was getting ready to use him in the same capacity as Miss Willow had used that cable!

But unfortunately, when he jumped off to get the makeshift zip-line started, the cable broke.

Mr. Skits was very unhappy with the fact that they were falling through the air and straight towards the water.

"Keep your legs straight when you hit the water!" he yelled at DC, frantically trying to preserve at least one asset on the plummet. The big beast complied—

Mr. Skits was suddenly made painfully aware that he had been falling over concrete. A gigantic splash followed by a severe drenching alerted him to the fact that DC at least had hit water.

Some spluttering, then, "I kept my legs straight, Mr. Skits!"

He could hardly see from the pain, but he was pretty sure the big lug was grinning happily. Idiot. Too much eye and not enough brain.

Another impact told him that the Shadow Man had flung out one of the larger electronic components, and due to his own misfortune, it had landed right on top of him.

He felt DC lift it off of him and postulated he was eying him with concern. "Are you all right, Mr. Skits?"

_No._ He painfully peeled himself off of the concrete, thankful that his shadowy status meant most physical injury could be shrugged off. Unless, of course, the Shadow Man had reason to be angry with him.

He glared up where Willow and what's-his-face—_Millicent_—were still on the pipes.

"Get them," he hissed through gritted fangs.


	8. The Pursuit

**Welcome to Chapter 8, ladies and gents! ****_Run you fool!_**

_**Don't Starve **_**© 2013 Klei Entertainment**

_**Flushed Away **_**© 2006 DreamWorks/Aardman Studios**

Wilson came to, wondering what happened.

It all came crashing back to him when he looked down.

"Oh boy, that is _high_, that is _very_ high," Wilson moaned, realizing that the pipe he was clinging to was the only thing that kept him from going _splat _on the pavement.

Willow didn't seem bothered by the height. She was examining the cable she had stolen. Then, with a satisfied noise, she used it to replace her belt.

"Toodle-oo!" She chimed, saluting Wilson.

Then she jumped off.

Wilson exclaimed in alarm—

But she had landed on a nearby roof—

Slid down a gutter—

Jumped on an awning—

And slid down a lamppost to the pavement.

Wilson watched her walk away, absolutely amazed.

Then he realized he was still up on the pipe.

"Okay," he muttered, steeling himself. "If she can do it, so can I."

He tried to lower himself down to the roof—

Slipped off the pipe—

Rolled down the roof—

Landed on another roof—

Rolled down that one—

Bounced off one awning—

Then another—

To land with a splat on the pavement.

Wilson sat up stiffly, sore all over. "And, gently down," he muttered.

He stood up—

And received a ball to the face.

The chatter of children told Wilson who was responsible. He sensed more than saw them scurry around and away from him.

He sighed; this just wasn't his day at _all_.

And it was about to get a lot worse.

Any plan he had of laying there until the swelling went down vanished when he rolled his eyes and spotted the towering form of DC nary two blocks from him.

Wilson scrambled to his feet and ran pell-mell in the direction Willow had disappeared in.

The moment's worth of sprint brought him into what must have been a city square, with a drawbridge and some waterways—the city seemed built with those in mind. He wondered if perhaps some of the architects had Venice in mind, or if perhaps it was to take advantage of the natural water paths—

_Stop it! You're dead meat in two minutes if you don't get out of there!_

Wilson glanced around, increasingly frantic, but couldn't spot Willow. "Oh, _where is she?"_ he moaned, running his fingers through his hair anxiously.

"There! There he is!"

Wilson spun around to see DC looking his way, Mr. Skits perched on his head and pointing. For once, Wilson regretted his distinctive haircut.

DC started lumbering his way.

Wilson sped off, threading through the crowd who barely gave the event a second glance. It worried Wilson that such an event was commonplace.

He felt more than heard DC gaining on him. He had to think quickly—_come on, Wilson old chap! You're a scientist! Think!_

He started grabbing stalls and tilting them in DC's path, throwing people out of the way—anything and everything to get away from the behemoth pursuing him. Nothing seemed to be slowing the monster down, though—

Until he threw some sort of fish-person in the way.

He didn't glance back, but the squishy sound and DC's scream, followed by a resounding _thump_ that knocked Wilson to the ground, told him plenty.

As Wilson was righting himself, he heard a foghorn. A very _familiar_ foghorn….

He glanced about, hopeful. Yes! There! There was Willow speeding along the main waterway in the _Jammy Dodger_, heading for the drawbridge! Perfect!

Wilson scrambled to the location, not wanting to miss his chance. He ran onto the drawbridge—

Just as it was beginning to rise.

Wilson got ready to backpedal, turned—

And saw DC and Mr. Skits coming for him.

He could have laughed at their bedraggled appearance, but for the death-glares they were giving him. So, despite the danger, he did the only thing applicable: turn and run the other way.

Unfortunately, that way was up an increasingly steep drawbridge. He made it to the top—

Lost his balance—

And fell.

But he caught himself, thankfully.

That thankfulness evaporated when he heard a very familiar cackle.

He glanced up to see Mr. Skits grinning at him, DC's long fingers grasping the edge—

"You look _pretty _ridiculous right now, _Millicent!_" Mr. Skits laughed.

Stretched across the open bridge as he was, Wilson felt inclined to agree.

The foghorn again! Willow was coming! She was almost to them!

Wilson made an executive decision, timed it to scientific precision, and let go.

"Keep your legs straight!" he heard DC yell.


	9. The End of the Gem

**Chapter 9! Presenting, once again, the amazing falling Wilson!**

**Thanks for the review, Loli-otaku! Haha, yes, I was snickering when I wrote that bit. Hopefully I'll continue to please and confound once we get to the scene with Willow's family. :)**

**_Don't Starve _****© 2013 Klei Entertainment**

**_Flushed Away _****© 2006 DreamWorks/Aardman Studios**

It occurred to Wilson that this made the third time that day—no, no, _fourth_ time that day he was falling through the air. He hoped this wasn't going to become a thing.

Fortunately, being afloat in water meant that the boat dipped down a bit upon his impact, lessening the total damage he could have sustained. Even at that, it was a sizeable impact, and knocked Willow off her feet, gem flying—

Wilson recovered enough of his senses to catch the gem before it fell into the water.

He was rewarded for his trouble by hands around his neck.

"_What are you, some kind of human boomerang?"_ Willow stormed, throttling him. "Give me back my gem!"

"What, this is the thanks I get?" Wilson managed to choke out—it was hard to do so, considering she was shaking him so bad. "If it wasn't for me, you'd be fishing this out of the water!"

"Don't do me any favors!" she yelled in his face.

"I've already done you one favor! I could have killed you earlier!"

"So? I would have killed you if I had the chance!"

Aha, he knew it. _No you didn't,_ he mentally chided. But he didn't have another comeback. He glanced at the gem, searching for—

"Hold on a minute," he said, holding the gem up to the light. "This is fake."

Willow blinked. "What?"

"This isn't a real ruby."

"Of _course_ it's not a ruby! It's a fire gem!"

"A _what?"_

"It's for setting things on fire!"

"That is _not_ what gems are for!"

"Yes it is!"

"No it isn't!"

"Yes it is!"

"No it isn't!"

"It's what _that_ gem's for!"

"But this gem's a fake!" Wilson insisted. "Here, watch!"

And with that, he rapped it against the prow.

It shattered into pieces and fell in the water.

"See?" he said, feeling triumphant. "You can't break—"

He faltered upon seeing Willow's expression.

"Uh…ah," he held up his hands. "That was a bad idea. I shouldn't have done that—"

"Oh, _you think!?"_ Willow screamed, slapping him.

Wilson reeled, tried to recover, but she slapped him again and he fell into the bowels of the boat.

Wilson couldn't help but be impressed by the interior—the vast majority of it was dominated by what looked like engines, which must have been what run the boat, a pay phone, a kitchenette—

His attention was diverted by Willow throwing loose junk at him.

"That! Gem! Would! Have! Set! Me! For! _Months!"_ she yelled, throwing something with each word. "You! You! _Moron!_ Breaking! That! Gem!"

"Hey! Wait!" Wilson yelped, dodging around the engines. "Listen! Maybe the Shadow Man will leave you alone now that the ruby is—"

_"It's not a ruby!_ And what makes you think he wouldn't take it out of my hide!"

She flung a bucket at him, knocking him into the pay phone. He fell, taking the handle with him.

"I could have made any sort of useful thing with that fire gem!" Willow continued, bordering on hysterics. "I could have used it to find things that would have set my family for life!" She found something new to fling at him and did so. "And you_ ruined it!"_

Wilson threw his hands up to protect himself, batting against the disconnected phone, curled up beneath the pay phone. As it swung by him, he heard a voice ask, "_Cho Won's Chinese Take Out?"_

He scrabbled for the phone and hollered into the receiver. "Yes! Help! I'm being attacked by a madwoman!"

"_You want won-ton?"_

"NO! A madwoman! She's attacking me!"

"_White or fried rice?"_

"Fried rice. No! Wait!"

He blinked, realized he wasn't being assaulted by flying detritus, that Willow hadn't been screaming in a bit. He peeked over the engines, sitting up on his knees to do so.

Willow was sitting on a step, looking utterly dejected.

"_Hey, guy, you want won-ton or not?"_

He had nearly forgotten about the phone. "Um, cancel that order," he said quietly, standing up and hanging up the phone gently.

He gingerly walked around the engines until he was a few feet in front of Willow, at a safe enough distance that if she flew into a rage again, he could dash away. "Willow?" he asked gingerly.

"Go away," she said firmly, although her voice sounded like she was trying not to cry.

Wilson gently eased up to her and kneeled down in front of her, trying to look her in the eye. "Listen: I'm sorry about the gem, I really am. But if you help me get back home—I have gems, real gems, and gold I use in my experiments. And-and there's an exhibit that if I win I get a tidy sum….Willow, please."

Willow glanced at him, still mad, but swaying over. "You promise?"

Ah, was that success he smelled? "With every gluon of my being."

"With every _what?"_

"Gluon—it's smaller than a quark, which is smaller than an atom…." He trailed off, sensing he was losing her. "Ah, yes, yes I do. So we have a deal?"

Willow stood up; Wilson followed suit. She spat in her hand and extended it. "Shake on it."

Wilson stared at her hand. "That doesn't seem sanitary—"

"Do it or no deal."

Wilson grimaced, leaned over—

"Your _own_ hand, you ninny," Willow scolded.

"Oh." Wilson did so and shook her hand, trying not to grimace at the whole thing. _Ick_.

"Well then," Wilson said when the deal was done, surreptitiously wiping his hand off. "Now what?"

Willow thought for a moment.

"We need to have some idea where to go," she announced finally. "I know how to find out, but it is _bloody_ dangerous."

"And what we've done earlier, that was perfectly safe?" Wilson asked, trying to keep a sarcastic edge out of his voice.

Willow nodded, seeming to approve of his tone. "True. Come on," she said, leading the way back on deck. "How are you with spiders?"

"I _hate_ spiders," Wilson said, shuddering.

"You're not going to do well where we're heading then."

"What?"


	10. The Glimmers of Plans

**Chapter 10, and we see the Shadow Man again! And some more spider-related antics.**

**Loli-otaku, thanks for the review! I've never noticed that in relation to the other characters, but then again, I spend 99.99% of my time on the game playing as Wilson. I ****_do_**** always end up encountering a cluster of spider nests, come to think of it….And I was smirking when I wrote that scene—I figured that open-style payphone would fit the scene and characters nicely. :)**

**Now here's a million-dollar question for the movie: The Toad is male. The other amphibians depicted are male. Where did the tadpoles come from?**

_**Don't Starve **_**© 2013 Klei Entertainment**

_**Flushed Away **_**© 2006 DreamWorks/Aardman Studios**

The Shadow Man was not happy.

He was literally surrounded by idiots. That was the problem. The creatures under his command had too much free will, while the shadows had too little. And then stuck in this world when the human world was so tantalizingly close—ugh. And then that girl had gone and _stolen the master cable!_ If he didn't get it back, then that was nine solid years of plotting flushed away down the drain.

A horrendous scream snapped him out of his reverie.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I've been neglecting you, haven't I?" he asked, tossing a hapless rabbit into a cage set in the ground. The Screecher inside tore it apart, then tried to go after him as well.

"Ah, what a healthy predatory instinct you have!" he cooed, thrilled with the rampant viciousness of the beast. "Don't worry, you and your kin will have plenty to hunt soon—just as soon as I get that cable back." He grinned wickedly at the thought. "And _you_ will have two screaming little victims all to yourself! Isn't that wonderful?"

"Boss?"

The Shadow Man scowled and turned to see Mr. Skits and DC groveling behind him. "I _hope_," he hissed, enjoying their flinch. "That your return means you've gotten it back."

Mr. Skits and DC exchanged glances. "Well, most of it," DC rumbled, showing a handful of sparkling red shards—the remains of a shattered fire gem.

"Not _that,_ you _idiots!"_ the Shadow Man screamed, slapping the shards out of DC's large hand; he was pleased to see that the big brute was appropriately cowed. "Do I not look like I can replace that at any time?" Although he made a mental note to punish Miss Willow later for the destruction of his property. "It's the master cable I want! The one that Miss Willow stole!"

DC, the idiotic being, simply _ohh_ed with understanding. Mr. Skits, on the other hand, leaped at a chance to try to please his superior. "Right! Forget the gem! Gem's gone! We are now your cable guys!"

The Shadow Man rubbed at his temples, lamenting the help he was doomed to have, and turned to one of the Terror Beaks cowering nearby. He had a minor recollection of destroying one—he'd have to replace it shortly. "And how is the progress on the dams?"

"They'll be ready to go by the end of the week, sir," it said, once it was through quaking in fear.

That didn't leave a whole lot of time. "Why are you two still standing there?" he snarled at DC and Mr. Skits. "Go get that cable!" he bellowed, sending them scurrying. "And the two miscreants that stole it from me! I want to deal with them personally!"

Once they were gone, he turned back to the Terror Beak trying to slink away. "And _you_—get me Maxwell. He and I need to have a little chat."

* * *

><p>It didn't take very long to produce the man in question.<p>

"Say pal, you don't look so good," Maxwell observed, lighting a cigar.

The Shadow Man ground his teeth in irritation. True, there were only a handful of beings in this world that affected an air of unconcern around him, but at least he could _see_ that he bothered them. Maxwell, huckster that he was, managed to pull off the illusion completely.

"Do you recognize this fellow?" The Shadow Man asked, deciding to forgo the issue at the moment and get down to the task at hand. He imitated the appearance of the man who had been brought to him along with Miss Willow.

"Nice haircut," Maxwell deadpanned. "I might have dropped him in this morning. Why?"

"I need him here _now_, along with Miss Willow."

Maxwell held up a finger in a _tsk_ing motion. "Ah, you forget our little deal—I drop them in here. That's it. After that, I don't have anything to do with them. I was quite clear on defining that."

The Shadow Man narrowed his eyes. Ugh. But he knew just how to wipe that smug grin off his face. "By the way, how is your wife doing?"

_That_ did it. "You forget the other half of our deal—so long as I drop some yutz in here on a semi-regular basis, you leave her alone."

"I'm not allowed to inquire after her welfare?" The Shadow Man asked, affecting an air of hurt. "I'm perfectly aware that your job performance would dip if anything happened to her—"

"It'll dip if you don't find another thread of conversation."

"I need this man and Miss Willow here—they've stolen something very dear to me—"

"Another fire gem?"

"Don't interrupt. A very special cable, without which I can't operate anything here."

"Maybe it's time to take a vacation."

"Maybe you should dedicate less time to snark and more time to finding them."

"I don't find people once they're here, remember?"

"Then spread the word that I'm looking for them. I'm sure that there's _someone_ here who would be perfectly accommodating."

"So suggests the laws of probability."

And with that parting shot, Maxwell was gone, utilizing the travelling powers that the Shadow Man had given him. What an ingrate.

The Shadow Man crossed over to where the Screecher was still caged.

"Good news," he told it over the mad screeches. "I have another two I'll be feeding to you. Isn't that _grand_?"

* * *

><p>Wilson was having a very good afternoon.<p>

Granted, he was still stuck in this sewer-world, but there was a way out on the way, and absolutely no spiders sighted. With Willow being relatively cordial to him, he felt perfectly at ease on the boat. He leaned out to examine the slipway they had turned into.

"Don't lean out too far," Willow called back. "You'll lose your head to a tentacle if you're not careful."

"Gah!" Wilson noised, jerking back to the center of the boat. He had seen what tentacles did first-hand—he didn't want to experience it himself.

He walked closer to the cockpit, brushing down his vest in an effort to give his hands something to do. "So, where _are_ we going, exactly?" he asked Willow.

"Someplace _very_ dangerous," Willow told him. "But I need to go there to get some maps of the area—there's a theoretical way out—"

"Uh, Willow."

Willow followed Wilson's pointing finger. "Don't worry about those—you don't bother them, they won't bother you."

Don't worry about those? _They were spider dens as big as he was!_

And then there was the little critters scurrying in between them and—

"Oh Willow! Hello dearie!"

"Hello Miss Ginger," Willow returned.

Great jumping ions!

That spider was as big as the boat! _And it was looking at him!_

"Is he all right?" the spider asked Willow.

Willow glared at him before turning back to the massive arachnid. "Not at all. But I promised I'd take him to the surface, and—"

"Oh, you don't want to do that—it's dangerous, and besides, there are Screechers over that way, I've heard."

"We'll be fine, Miss Ginger."

The spider shrugged. "Suit yourself. Although I think you could get a better boyfriend, in my opinion."

They exchanged goodbyes, and the giant spider scuttled off, smaller spiders clinging to her web-caked abdomen.

Willow glared at Wilson. "If you're quite done screaming like a little girl."

"Ah," Wilson noised. That would explain why his throat was so sore. "Ah, sorry."

"What's wrong with you, anyway?"

"I _hate_ spiders."

"I would have never guessed," Willow deadpanned, arms crossed. "If you're going to be this big a baby, I should just cut my losses and throw you overboard now."

"NO! No," Wilson begged. "Whatever you do, if you _do_ throw me overboard, just _don't do it here."_

"Right," Willow said, turning back to the wheel. "There's a spider on your head."

After his flailing and screeching, it occurred to Wilson that Willow had said that just to watch the show.


	11. The Family

**Chapter 11, and we finally meet Willow's family! This will be good…I think….**

**_Don't Starve _****© 2013 Klei Entertainment**

**_Flushed Away _****© 2006 DreamWorks/Aardman Studios**

"Please tell me this isn't the place."

"This is the place."

"I told you not to tell me."

Willow gave him a passing glare. "I _did_ tell you it was dangerous."

"You could have mentioned it was structurally unsound."

They were looking at some sort of floating tower, which was rhythmically rocking back and forth in a horribly precarious manner. Wilson was getting sick just watching it. He was _definitely_ having second thoughts about following Willow across the rotting dock and into the building.

Obviously, she was too; she stopped him. "Listen, maybe you should wait out here."

Wilson was about to respond when the plank he was standing on decided to break under his continued weight. "Stay here, got it," he agreed, considering he'd have to spend some time getting back out.

"Good. Now watch out for the piranha—"

"_Gyah!"_ Wilson wasted no time getting out of the water.

"Gotcha," Willow jeered, sticking her tongue out. "Besides, it's not the piranha you should watch out for—it's the frogs."

"The _frogs?"_ Wilson echoed, but she shushed him and entered the precarious building.

Wilson glanced around; saw one of the reputed frogs. It was bullfrog-sized, with what looked like horny protrusions on its head.

"I don't see what's so bad about—" the rest of his comment was cut off by the frog slapping him in the face with its tongue.

"_Gyah!"_ Wilson cried, falling back against the wall. "You know what? Fine. I'm leaving. I'll wait on the boat."

The platform tilted again, and a garden gnome slid by. Wilson stared at the surprisingly common item, wondered if it perhaps served some sort of religious function—

_"Willow!"_

That sounded like a _lot_ of people. And it was coming from where Willow had entered.

He risked peeking inside.

It _was_ a lot of people.

Mostly children, but a few adults too. And Willow was in the epicenter, giving out toys to the children and addressing the adults as _mom_ and_ dad_ (who was in a full body cast—so he _did_ have every bone in his body broken) and _Aunt Charlie_ and _oh yes I'm doing fine when's Uncle Max getting back—_

One of the larger children shifted his weight, prompting several to go tumbling over to where Wilson was peeking through the window.

"Who's that?" the woman identified as Willow's mom asked.

"He's a customer, ignore him," Willow said, still handing things out and trying to bluster through any questions about Wilson. He suddenly felt like a peeping Tom.

Willow's mom and her Aunt Charlie exchanged knowing glances. "He's awfully cute," Charlie observed.

"He is not, and he is _not_ coming in!" Willow declared.

* * *

><p>Five minutes later, Wilson was sitting next to Willow at her family's incredibly long dining table. There was hardly enough elbow room for everyone, but at the moment, Wilson didn't care; he was too busy grinning with triumph. Willow, next to him, was exceedingly grumpy by comparison.<p>

"So what did you say your name was?" one of the kids asked from across the table. It was sort of a bellow, considering everyone was chattering at once.

"Wilson P. Higgsbury," Wilson returned, watching the soup bowl slide down the table. This was apparently a regular occurrence, what with the rocking being simulated by one of the residents—a strongman from a circus, from the looks of him—skating back and forth. Everyone managed a scoop of soup except him.

"So are you going to make an honest woman of my daughter, Mr. Higgsbury?" Willow's father asked from the end of the table.

"_Dad_," Willow stressed, obviously aghast at the notion.

Wilson decided to push his luck and draped an arm around her. "Well we were thinking of a spring wedding, weren't we honey?" Wilson asked.

Willow responded by backhanding him. Ow. "He's a _customer_. Not a boyfriend," she added, looking pointedly at Charlie. "Not even a friend."

"We're more of a…acquaintances due to misfortune," Wilson elaborated, straightening his nose back out. There went the soup again.

"Cool," one boy who bore an unfortunate resemblance to a bipedal spider said. "Is it like on the radio where you team up hunting treasure 'cause it's too much work to fight each other?"

"Webber, stop listening to _Indiana Jones_," someone at the other end of the table called.

"So what do you do, Mr. Higgsbury?" Willow's mom called from the other end of the table.

"I'm a scientist," Wilson answered. Missed the soup again.

"Oh, that sounds fascinating. Anything in particular you study?"

"I specialize in machines, although I dabble in a lot of other things." Except getting soup. Ugh. Apply scientific calculations….Although that was rather difficult to do whilst listening to everyone and keeping a sharp ear out for his name to be mentioned.

"Hi," came from Wilson's elbow; he gave up trying to follow the myriad conversations and directed his attention thusly. It had come from a young…thing. It looked like a moose crossed with a gosling, with a load of yellow fluff.

"Hello there," Wilson said, deciding that cordiality was the best approach. "And who might you be?"

"They call me Shocky."

"And why do they call you—"

_"Shocky!"_ the mosling replied, touching Wilson. The referenced electricity coursed through him, and Wilson was fairly certain that everyone at the table could see his bones.

"Right," Wilson gasped weakly. "Got it."

"So what did Mr. Higgsbury hire you for?" he heard Willow's dad ask. The soup slid down to his end and someone put a straw in it so he could take a sip.

"I'm taking him up top to—where did you say? Kensington?" Willow asked, turning to him.

Wilson didn't answer. The table as a whole had fallen silent at her father's spit take upon hearing the words _up top._

"Kitchen," he commanded, eyes narrowed. "Now."


	12. The Misunderstanding

**Chapter 12! I had fun with this one for one specific reason—three guesses who. :)**

**Oh, and by the way**—**the song Wilson sings in this chapter is "Joy to the World" by Three Dog Night, which is better known by its first line, "Jeremiah was a bullfrog." Go give it a listen**—**it's good. :)**

**Loli-otaku, thanks for the review! Haha, I know you've been looking forward to that chapter, so your rambling was greatly appreciated, especially about "Uncle Max" and "Aunt Charlie" (and I have! It's uncanny). Wilson lampshades this in this chapter, but I figure they look like human versions of Rita's parents. And yes, the mosling fit the role of Shocky perfectly. :D**

**Ignescent, thanks for the review! Glad you've been enjoying the story so far—it's been fun putting these guys in these situations. :) I hope you enjoy this chapter! :D**

**_Don't Starve _****© 2013 Klei Entertainment**

**_Flushed Away _****© 2006 DreamWorks/Aardman Studios**

"I can't believe you. Did I teach you _nothing_? You don't try to go up top! The area you'd have to pass through would kill you!"

Willow half-listened, leaning against an old refrigerator. She knew better than to try to argue with him at the moment—best to let him wind down first.

He was beginning to show signs of it when someone popped in to make the situation even worse.

"I'm ho—say pal, you don't look so good," Maxwell observed, looking between them.

"Hullo Uncle Max," Willow said dully. "Dad wants to ground me until next year."

"And here I thought it was something new," Maxwell observed drily, lighting another cigar.

"I blame you for this," her dad declared, glaring at Maxwell.

"And how is this my fault?"

"She wants to go up top!"

"He's offering to pay me for it!" Willow declared.

"And how much is your life worth, pray tell?"

Maxwell opened his mouth, but Willow cut him off. "Enough gold and jewels to have us set for a bit! At least until you heal up!"

"We'll be fine! We! Don't! Need! The! Money!" her dad declared, pounding the table for emphasis.

Unfortunately, doing so aggravated the already-tender kitchen, and the stove rocked twice, then fell through the floor with a crash and a splash.

"New stove would be nice," Maxwell observed.

Her dad grumbled, prompting Maxwell to turn and address her. "So who's the goon who talked you into this?"

Willow opened her mouth to respond when they heard singing coming from the living room. Willow stuck her head out, was aware of Maxwell doing the same above her—

There was Wilson, singing and dancing on the table, with everyone cheering and clapping and Wickerbottom showing an uncomfortable amount of zeal. She lost it when Wilson got to the line "_A straight-shootin' sunnova gun!"_

Maxwell muttered something that kind of sounded like _sunnova gun_. "Hi honey," he said to Charlie.

"You missed dinner," Charlie said, glancing at him before joining the rest in applauding.

They reentered the kitchen. "What?" Willow asked, looking at the peculiar expression on Maxwell's face—like he wanted to laugh and cry at the same time.

He adopted that huckster grin that she had come to associate with him and rolled the cigar to one side of his mouth. "Oh, you're going to _love_ this."

* * *

><p>Wilson hopped down from the table to the cheers of his adoring audience. Ah, show business.<p>

"That was absolutely wonderful!" Willow's mom declared. Mrs. Wickerbottom shared the sentiment, accompanying it with a tight hug that Wilson had a hard time getting out of.

"So you're new here, right?" Charlie asked, helping Willow's mom to gather dishes. He really needed to learn these people's last name, even if he _was_ never going to see them again.

"Is it that obvious?" Wilson asked, extricating himself from the hug. He dedicated himself to assisting with the paltry dishes—it mostly consisted of spoons.

"You have this fresh-off-the-boat look."

"More like just-dropped-in," Wilson corrected, grimacing.

Something about Charlie's expression made Wilson wonder about her. Maybe she had been "dropped in" too?

"Do you have any family up top?" Willow's mom asked.

"Ah…." What a tender subject. "I have parents, yes, I'm an only child….And I was…forcefully emancipated from my family at seventeen because I insisted on practicing science."

"Oh how terrible."

Wilson shrugged. "I don't mind it, actually—plenty of time to myself, no interruptions when I'm doing scientific research…."

"Sounds lonely."

"What's so wrong with that?"

"I imagine that your science is quite fulfilling," Willow's mom said apologetically. "But is it worth it when there's no one to share your success with?"

"No one to cuddle?" Mrs. Wickerbottom put in.

"No one to shocky?" Shocky asked.

"It just seems lonely, that's all," Willow's mom finished.

Wilson blinked; he hadn't expected his livelihood to be called into question like that. And it addressed some points that he really didn't feel like addressing. Ever.

"Um, here, let me get that for you," Wilson said, taking the dishes.

"Oh, aren't you a dear."

Wilson gave a weak smile and headed for what had been designated as the kitchen. He paused halfway there; examined Willow's sizeable family. Felt a small pang of jealousy. How lucky she was, to have a family that would accept her successes and her failures.

He shrugged it off and headed for the kitchen.

But he froze when he came near the door.

He had just heard a _very_ familiar voice. And rejoining it—Willow!

"So you're saying the Shadow Man will pay big bucks for Wilson?" she asked.

"That's right," the man from Wilson's flat replied—Maxwell. "He'll pay a pretty penny for both him and something called the master cable—nice belt, by the way."

Wilson hardly heard the last bit. He had just gone very, very cold inside.

He had to get out of there.

* * *

><p>Willow was absolutely aghast at the news. What was so important about this fellow? No one even knew him—ah…no one knew him well enough. If it was between their families and Wilson, Wilson would be sent up the river without a second thought.<p>

Her father, fortunately, had more moral fiber than that.

"Don't even think about it," he told her.

"Wasn't going to," she replied, although he had already turned his attention to Maxwell.

"And you! Even bringing that suggestion here! We aren't turning rat for the Shadow Man!"

Maxwell shrugged. "Did I say that? No, I didn't—I was just telling you what I heard."

He walked away at that, ignoring their scoffs.

When her father looked back at her, it was with a softer expression; Willow recognized resignation.

"Listen," he said. "I know you're a grown woman. I know you made this man a promise. I know you'll see it through to the end. But _please_ tell me you'll be careful."

"I'll be careful," Willow promised.

"Now actually _be_ careful instead of just telling me."

"Deal."

"All right," her father said. "I'm going to go get one of the boys to help me get those charts."

"And I'm going to get ready," Willow said. "Now where is that lunkhead?"

"He's going to steal your boat," Maxwell declared, looking out the window.

"He isn't going to steal my boat—"

"He's stealing your boat—"

"He is _not_—"

"He stole your boat."

Willow shoved him away from the window—

Just in time to see Wilson steer the _Jammy Dodger _away from the dock.

"Hey!" she exclaimed.

"It's like Robin Hood in reverse," Maxwell muttered, grinning.

Willow didn't have time for him—she was too busy bolting for the door. She vaulted over the table to her family's exclamations, and within seconds was standing at the end of the dock and screaming at the top of her lungs.

"_Hey! I thought we had a deal!"_

"Yeah? Well _so did I!"_ Wilson hollered back.

Willow flinched at the accusation. _What_?

She was aware of the rest of her family gathering on the dock and watching the rapidly disappearing boat. She wondered how many of them had pails of water ready, just in case.

"So," Maxwell said finally, turning to Charlie. "How was _your_ day?"


	13. The Minor Musical (Ice Cold Willow)

**Chapter 13, everybody! :D I looked forward to writing this chapter so much it wasn't funny—I think I went around the house singing the little ditty for days before I did it. And this proves, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Hugh Jackman could sing ****_before _****Les **Misérables****.

**Loli-otaku, thanks for the review! I am too—Maxwell won't let me know, though. :| (I'll ask Charlie later…). He can't! If he did, then the movie (and this story!) would end right now, and then where would we be?**

_**Don't Starve **_**© 2013 Klei Entertainment**

_**Flushed Away **_**© 2006 DreamWorks/Aardman Studios**

Wilson had spent the entire night and most of the next morning silently fuming at Willow's betrayal. Now, with getting into the trickier waters near the city to navigate, his frustration had boiled over into a rant directed at no one in particular.

"I can't believe her—turn me in for a quick buck why don't you!" he shot over his shoulder. "Well I don't need her! I mean, I'm doing just fine—"

With that, he bumped into a buoy and another boat.

"Ah! Sorry!" he called, trying to navigate into calmer waters and stop playing pinball with the boat. It wouldn't do for him to knock a hole in the hull or—

The engine died.

Wilson gaped at the sudden silence, then finally cracked. He growled his frustration towards the sky and kicked one of the motor pieces on deck, then sat down and buried his head in his hands before he injured any more toes.

He sat that way for a few minutes, allowing the flow of the water to carry the boat along and gently lull him into a calmer state of mind. He was a scientist. Science went nowhere when frustration was present. Science required a calm scientist in order to obtain unbiased data. He knew machines. He could maybe fix the engine. That was it.

He noticed what sounded like music. He glanced up—

To see a trio of spiders floating by on a buoy.

One sang as the others provided a beat. "_Here's a little song I wrote, you might want to sing it note for note: don't worry, be happy. Don't worry be happy now…."_

Wilson watched them float away. "Mr. Higgsbury," he announced finally. "That was strange even by this place's standards. You need to think about getting some sleep soon."

First things first, however: getting the engine working again.

* * *

><p>Within a few minutes, he had a panel pried off of the engine within the boat, tools ready and flashlight held tightly between his teeth.<p>

"All right," he muttered around the flashlight; he hoped he could get it working before he started drooling from having his mouth open for too long. "Can we fix it? Yes we can, now…."

He touched a wire and received a shock comparable to the one he had received from Shocky last night. The memory hurt worse than the electricity, but it didn't stop him from releasing a few ungentlemanly words and shaking his hand to relieve the pain. He returned the flashlight to his mouth and picked up the tools, now mindful of the exposed wires in the engine.

"What a mess," he muttered, examining the engine and beginning to tinker. "Hullo, what's this? Why it's no wonder you quit! I'm surprised you work at all, you dilapidated, clunking, unreliable—"

"—Untrustworthy, unmitigated, worthless piece of _trash!"_

Well, yes—wait, that wasn't him.

He cautiously peeked over the engine.

There was Willow across from him, hands on her hips, that killer look back on her face. If anger manifested in flame, she would have spontaneously combusted before his eyes.

Unfortunately, Wilson had a bit of unrequited anger to let loose as well. "Oh, _I'm_ untrustworthy?" he asked, removing the flashlight and standing up. Thank goodness for that foot of height he had on her. "I'm sorry, which one of us was conspiring with that _rat_ to return _me_ to the Shadow Man?"

Willow's confusion was laughable. At least, it was until she recovered.

"Oh, you mean Maxwell?" she asked, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Yes, I remember: tall fellow, dresses nicely, smokes cigars—Charlie's husband. You remember Charlie, don't you?"

"Uh," Wilson noised, not liking where this was going.

"Yes, yes—and if you had stayed and eavesdropped on the _rest_ of the conversation, you would know that he was telling us that so we would be informed and be careful; he doesn't like the Shadow Man any more than the rest of us do!"

"Ah…."

"And furthermore, running out like that! Just who do you think I am? When I make a promise, I _keep_ it! Unlike _some_ people."

"Aha," Wilson noised, realizing he was definitely in hot water now. "Well, I, ah, wasn't aware of that—"

"That's obvious."

"Umn, so…I offer my most heartfelt apologies, and hope we could put this all behind us?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Oh, I intend to do _just_ that."

* * *

><p>Five minutes later found Wilson forcibly regulated to the dingy Willow had paddled in pursuit of him.<p>

"Wait! Willow! You can't do this to me!" Wilson called as she proceeded with putting some distance between them.

"Watch me!"

"No! You can't! You can't leave me here up a creek without a—"

She threw a guitar at him.

"There you go!" she said, dusting her hands of him. "Thank you, and good-bye!"

Wilson gave an irritated sigh. Now what?

He glimpsed something out of the corner of his eye. A bunch of spiders had witnessed the event. Ooh boy—not what he wanted.

And then he saw something else, something infinitely more useful.

The line that had tied the _Jammy Dodger_ to the dock last night was still trailing behind it, snaking past him.

Perfect!

* * *

><p>Willow groused at the helm, wondering just what on <em>earth<em> that fool had done to her boat. It was acting funny. Or maybe it was just her imagination. He had _touched_ her _boat_. It was a violation of her private property. She didn't even let her _siblings_ touch her boat. And he eavesdropped and thieved and—_ugh!_ So glad she was rid of him.

Or so she thought.

She heard strumming. Curious, she turned to look.

That _nerd_ had tied the dinghy to the trailing line and was now floating comfortably along, strumming away on the guitar she had given him for a paddle. Oi.

Worse, he started singing.

_"Ice cold Willow, never did I meet oh, a girl who was so cruel, I offered her some jewels."_ Here he tilted his head a bit, even though he gave no indication that he was actually looking her way. _"But she was so stingy—left me stranded on a dinghy! What an awful thing to do to Wilson—that's me,_" he added, splaying one hand on his chest and looking at her briefly. "_Wilson—P. Higgsbury—of Kensington."_ This with individual strums.

Willow shook her head and glanced away. Anything but _this_ idiot.

Unfortunately, the spiders had gotten in on it.

"_Poor, poor Wil-son,"_ they sang. _"Stuck down here and then some! Willow can't you find it in your heart…."_

They parted to reveal a bullfrog. "_Toooo help hiiim,"_ it sang in a baritone.

Willow was torn between grimacing and laughing.

_"Ice cold Willow,"_ they all sang. _"Please be sweet oh, to mee-eee-eee!"_

She had had enough.

She fiddled with a switch, and suddenly Wilson was hanging in front of her.

"Am I forgiven?" he asked; she could see a smug look on his face.

"No," Willow replied promptly. "I was just afraid you'd go into another verse."

Willow fiddled with the switch so he was hanging over the water. "No wait! Wait wait wait!" Wilson pleaded. "Please, Willow, I'm sorry! I really am!"

"I don't believe you," Willow stated. "What with you eavesdropping on my family."

"I wasn't eavesdropping," Wilson corrected, then hung his head.

"Then what _were_ you doing?" Willow pressed.

Wilson took a deep breath. "I was…I was watching them…and thinking how lucky you were."

Willow considered him for a moment.

She surprised him and herself when she gently set him down on deck.

"Me? Lucky?" she blustered, not wanting to show weakness. "Stuck with a lunk like you?"

He at least had the decency to look chagrined at that. "Yes, well…maybe I could help? Fix the engine…or I could drive for a bit."

"I'll be handling those, thank you very much," she declared. She hadn't even realized the engine was in need of repair. "But I have the perfect job for you."

"Name it."


	14. The Waterway Chase

**Chapter 14 is now live! Thank you to everyone following thus far.**

**And now, for the amazing flying Mr. Skits! :D**

**_Don't Starve _****© 2013 Klei Entertainment**

**_Flushed Away _****© 2006 DreamWorks/Aardman Studios**

Mr. Skits was having a bad day.

Nothing! Absolutely nothing had come in on Willow and her new accomplice. And with this dearth of information, Mr. Skits was feeling very vulnerable indeed.

"What's wrong, Mr. Skits?" DC rumbled, eyeing him with concern.

"What's wrong? _I'll tell you what's wrong!"_ Mr. Skits yelled. He had been pacing for two hours, and _now_ the big palooka wanted to know _what's wrong?_ "If we don't find those two pronto, it'll be our heads on the chopping block! I don't want to die, DC," he finished, surprising himself by sniffling.

In response, DC beamed and patted him on the head. "Don't worry, Mr. Skits—we'll find them." He assumed a pensive look, making Mr. Skits worry. "Let's see…to _find_ a Millicent, we'll have to _think_ like a Millicent!"

Mr. Skits closed his eyes slowly. Oi. "Right, DC," he said finally. "You focus on figuring out how to do that."

"Excuse me, boss?" A Terrorbeak asked, sticking its head in their current headquarters—a rather cramped room filled mostly with DC. "But we've had a tipoff. They were spotted near town."

"Bingo!" Mr. Skits yelped, overjoyed. He could _kiss_ that Terrorbeak right now!

"Scrabble!" DC suggested, completely missing the point.

Mr. Skits waved him off. "Enough games! Quick! To the Skitsmobile!"

As they left, DC asked, "Can't we call it something else?"

"NO! _I_ found it, _I_ get to name it!"

* * *

><p>Wilson was having a bad day.<p>

Granted, it didn't top _yesterday_, which had to be the absolute _worst_ day of his life, but it was close. Especially with dealing with these barnacles he was supposed to be scraping off of the hull; apparently, they exhibited the same amount of sentience most creatures around here did.

"Willow? Are you sure about this?" he called up.

"Less talk, more work!" she called back.

Wilson gritted his teeth and bore it. Granted, it wasn't what he would rather be doing, but it _was_ productive, and it _was_ going to keep him from being kicked off of the boat.

And so, he leaned into his work again, ignoring the protests coming from the little creatures.

At least, he was, until one grabbed his pry bar and wrestled it from him. He tried to snatch it back, but it went flying into the water.

Wilson sighed with frustration—

Then froze.

It was DC! And that slippery little Mr. Skits! Zipping this way in a speedy boat with more on the way!

"_Willow!"_ Wilson screamed, alerting her to the fact.

Willow spun around to see what the fuss was about, saw just what the fuss was about, and leaned into the throttle. Wilson managed to see her hit some big red button before—

"_Willow!"_ Wilson shrieked, hanging on for dear life. "_I'm not in the boat!"_

The scaffold swung out, scraping Wilson along until he was torn loose. He ran as fast as he could after it, managed to leap back onto it as it flew out over the water.

Willow was swerving and weaving through the heavy traffic clogging the areas near the city, Wilson clinging for dear life and trying very hard not to be sick as the scaffold followed suit, motions exaggerated by the free-pivoting crane.

The brief, flashing glances of DC and Mr. Skits hot on their tail didn't help either. And then shadow-creature-filled boats gaining steadily—

_"Willow!"_

"Hang on!" Willow yelled, slamming her hand on one of the buttons.

Wilson reflected that that was a very stupid statement, but appreciated the slew of floating bee mines she left in her wake. It made short work of the minions chasing them. Unfortunately, DC and Mr. Skits were still after them. Wilson glanced about frantically for something that would help—

"There!" he hollered, pointing frantically. "_Head that way!"_

Willow's glance was incredulous. "_What?"_

_"Trust me!"_

"All right," he heard her mutter.

And then he was swinging wide again, but his clever scientific mind had calculated for this, and he caught the string of a large float (and sent a hapless mime spinning into the water, he noted) as they sped by. "Now! Through that tunnel! And hurry!"

"Roger!" Willow chimed, apparently seeing his reasoning. Wilson held tight until the balloon followed them and firmly wedged itself into the tunnel, and then let go with a whoop of triumph—

That was short lived, as DC popped the balloon easily.

"Oh dear," Wilson muttered.

* * *

><p>"All right, DC! Launch me!"<p>

"Are you sure, Mr. Skits?" DC asked, eyeing the catapult. "I hear these things are dangerous!"

"Danger is my middle name!"

DC looked confused. "I thought it was 'Lesley.'"

Mr. Skits glared at him. "_Just do it!"_

"All right," DC muttered, cutting the rope with one sharp swipe.

Mr. Skits went flying through the air with the greatest of ease, gripping a spear and confident of his speedy retrieval by DC thanks to the rope around his waist. This plan was foolproof!

Millicent Bystander had managed to get back on the _Jammy Dodger_, making him the perfect target. Mr. Skits slammed into him, knocking him down.

Mr. Skits hopped onto him as Millicent rolled onto his back. "Any last requests, _Millicent?"_ Mr. Skits spat.

Millicent glanced down, then back at Mr. Skits.

Instantly, his demeanor changed. Mr. Skits betted he had just cracked like an egg.

"Yes, indeed I do," Millicent said, very precisely and highbrow, his former fear absolutely gone. He was holding a hand up with his forefinger and thumb pinched together, as though they were conversing at a tea party. "Would you kindly go flying off of this ship at an exceedingly alarming rate, screaming like a little girl?"

Mr. Skits had just enough time to get out "What?" before he did _precisely_ what Millicent said. What was he, a magician?

And then he saw himself flying by DC, and the rope went taut again, and he was flying—

Wrapping around one pipe after another—

Hitting a bunch of very unforgiving objects—

And punching through the bottom of his own boat when the tether did what it was supposed to and returned him to it.

"Oh dear," he heard DC mutter as they slowly sank.

* * *

><p>"<em>Woo-hoo! Did you see that? We did it!"<em>

Willow was whooping and hopping with glee—well why not? The nerd Higgsbury had shown himself to actually be useful, and that _delivery—_

She looked at him, beaming, suddenly seeing him in a new light as he clung onto one of the canopy's bars, grinning maniacally at his success and looking at her—

And then he was looking over her shoulder and screaming "_Look out!"_

Willow turned around just in time to shriek and yank on the steering, just soon enough to avoid collision with a tugboat loaded down with wood. _"Watch where you're going, eh?!"_ the driver shrieked.

"Sorry Woodie!" Willow hollered back, although they were already long gone, thanks to the boost her red button had given them.

It was just as well that they had nearly had a collision, she reflected. She had no desire to make any stupid decisions.

Well, no more than she had already made.


	15. The Not-So-Romantic Dinner

**Chapter 15, ladies and gents! And now, we get to see who plays Le Frog and his Henchfrogs….**

**I also want to point out that because of the holiday coming up, I'll probably only update once next week and the week after that. But you all will be busy with cookies and presents anyway. :)**

_**Don't Starve **_**© 2013 Klei Entertainment**

_**Flushed Away **_**© 2006 DreamWorks/Aardman Studios**

DC's opinion that maybe the Shadow Man would be in a good mood was short-lived.

_"IDIOTS!"_ he had shrieked, before flinging them both out of the freshly-repaired plate-glass window.

"Keep your legs straight when you hit the water!" DC hollered inanely.

Mr. Skits simply kept his arms crossed the whole way down, glowering. He was most certainly _not_ amused.

* * *

><p>The Shadow Man was not amused.<p>

"Why, why, _why_ must I be surrounded by incompetent fools?" he asked, tearing at his hair. Well, if his shadow minions and living servants didn't cut it….

A few minutes later saw an experiment he had been working on in front of him.

"Ah, WX-78, good to see you," he said.

_"I am unable to return the sentiment,"_ the brass-plated humanoid robot replied.

The Shadow Man grimaced. He was _not_ in the mood. "And why not?" he asked dangerously.

_"My empathy module is not responding,"_ the robot replied. "_Perhaps if you were to install it…."_

"First thing's first," The Shadow Man said. "I need you to get these two for me," he flashed their faces. "And the master cable they stole. The only way you can come back here without _them_ is if they fell down a bottomless pit. But you _must_ retrieve the master cable!"

_"Yes sir."_

The robot gave a shrill whistle, and several other clattering clockwork contraptions scuttled forward. "_Come,"_ it commanded. _"We have fleshlings to exterminate."_

* * *

><p>It was dark, and therefore they had stopped for the night. Wilson would have questioned the wisdom of stopping when the Shadow Man and its minions were on their tail, but he could see the pitch blackness of the tunnels, and therefore was glad that Willow found a nice cubbyhole where they could see who or what could sneak up on them.<p>

Wilson, meanwhile, had busied himself at the little kitchenette, and as Willow finished batting down the hatches, he came up triumphantly with two bowls of steaming soup. The spiders were singing again, but he ignored them in lieu of serving the soup to Willow.

"Wow, this is really good!" Willow said, after a brief moment of silence and then sampling.

"Yes, it's amazing, considering I only had one tomato, a carrot, a slice of ham, and a half a box of rice," Wilson downplayed.

Willow blinked at him. "I…don't think we _had_ rice."

_"What's that urge from deep inside?"_ the spiders sang. _"The need to purge won't be denied! That isn't rice—that's maggots you're eating!"_

The maggots in question joined in with a chorus of _"Larvae larvae larvae—"_

Wilson slung the soup overboard.

"Well," he coughed. "That would explain why it all went to one side when I put salt in it." He noticed her dumping hers out. "Sorry about that."

"It's the thought that counts," she said.

Wilson didn't really think so, but she didn't seem cross, so he chalked it up as a good thing. At the very least, he was fairly certain he wouldn't have to worry about her tossing him overboard if he dozed off.

She had gone into the boat for something, and now came back up with what looked like two straw rolls.

"This one's for you," she said, handing him one. "You'll want to get a good night's sleep—big day tomorrow."

"Thank you," he said, gently spreading it out. Ugh, it felt scratchy—definitely in need of improvement. "Question, Miss Willow."

"What?" she asked, already curled up on her own straw roll.

"How…." He gestured uselessly. "How did a—"

"'Nice girl like me end up in a place like this'? Is that what you were going to ask?"

"Well…yes."

She rolled onto her back. "I was dropped in," she said. "I was at one of those orphanages—or I _was_—I burnt it down—"

_"Excuse me?"_

"I like fire, all right? And I didn't like that place, and besides, no one got hurt. But they were all set to ship me off to a psyche ward before that, so I needed a distraction."

Wilson waited for a few minutes. "And…you ended up here?"

"I bumped into Maxwell. The rest is history." She rolled onto her elbow so she could look at him. "So what about you? You know everything about me, basically—what did _you_ do?"

Wilson debated for a moment. "I…was in a boy band."

_"What?"_

"Oh yes—I was the Smart One."

Willow whacked him on the leg. "I'm serious."

"So am I."

He relented under her glare. "I'm a scientist," he said finally. "I said as much to your…adoptive family, I guess…but you were busy ignoring me at the time."

"For good reason."

"True…."

"Win any Nobel prizes?"

"Working on it." He sat up, energized. "When we get there, I've got a science exhibit to get to—I have to be there by the end of this week. Once I win, I'll be set for life. Scientific acclaim will be mine."

"That's it? We're risking life and limb so you can go to a science fair?"

"That 'science fair', as you so crassly put it, is the difference between living in a flat and living in a university." He had flopped down, but propped himself back up. "And of course, paying you so you don't have to go stealing rubies from unscrupulous characters."

"How many times do I have to tell you? It's a _fire gem,_ not a ruby."

"Well, inquiring minds want to know—what, pray tell, is a fire gem?"

She got up and crossed over to a barrel on deck. He watched as she fished out a staff with a red gem on the top. She brought it over for his examination.

"See that on the top?" she asked. "_That's _a fire gem. When it's included in a fire staff, it shoots fire."

Wilson turned it over in his hands. "_Shoots fire?"_ he asked skeptically. "What, is it a point and think thing, or—"

No sooner had he pictured it that it fired, leaving a scorch mark on the wall and stars in his eyes.

"Um," he noised, floored.

Willow snatched it away. "Don't _do_ that—it only has a few shots left!"

Wilson rubbed his eyes, trying to clear them; that flash of light had given him a headache. "What do you mean, a few shots?"

"It has a limit," she explained. "See? It's showing some stress here from being used." She indicated some cracks in the gem and the staff. "I guess it's from the power going through it."

Wilson decided against touching it this time around. "And where does its 'power' come from?"

Willow shrugged. "Magic, I suppose."

Wilson scoffed.

"Well, we can't have everything be all nice and tidy and scientific for you," Willow said, putting it up and getting back on her straw roll. "Otherwise, how could you explain this place?"

Wilson twiddled his thumbs. "I'm working on it."

Willow snorted. "Good night, Wilson," she said, rolling over. "Sleep tight. Don't let the bedbugs bite."

Wilson felt the edges of his mouth quirk up in a smile at the inane rhyme, until an actual bedbug bit him.

"Ow!" he yelped, fishing the offending insect out. It snickered at him until he flicked it away.

"Good night, Miss Willow," Wilson muttered, rolling over.

He fell into a fitful, dreamless sleep.


	16. The Clattering Clockwork Contraptions

**Chapter 16, ladies and gents, and the only one for this week—my normal upload schedule for this would have me submitting on Christmas day, and I'd rather not (presents, cookies, and prime rib take precedence in this case). :)**

**And I have to say, I was a little bummed when writing this group of chapters that I wasn't able to incorporate more of Le Frog's and the Henchfrogs' lines—they're my favorite characters in the movie, but because of the more serious tone, I wasn't able to use any of their lines (Wes was supposed to be the mime in this scene, even, but I scrapped the idea for practical reasons). Ah well—****_c'est la vie!_**

**_Don't Starve _****© 2013 Klei Entertainment**

**_Flushed Away _****© 2006 DreamWorks/Aardman Studios**

Wilson was jolted awake by the ship's horn.

_"Gyaah!"_ he yelped, bolting upright. There was Willow, startled awake as well—wait, what?

"Morning, pal! You don't look so good."

_"You!"_ Wilson growled, spotting the speaker. That man—_Maxwell_—leaning against the ship's steering wheel like—wait, they weren't in the cul-de-sac anymore. Where _were_ they?

_"What did you do?"_ Wilson asked, on his feet and looking for something to attack the man in front of him with.

"Uncle Max, you _know_ I don't like people touching my ship!" Willow chided.

"Since when was I _people_?" Maxwell asked.

Wilson, meanwhile, was minorly distracted._ "Uncle_ Max?" he asked her.

Willow ignored him. "Where did you even take us anyway?"

Maxwell tapped his cigar over the gunwale, apparently to keep from getting ash on the ship. "I gave you a head start. Say thank you, by the way."

"No touchy," Willow said, waving him away from the prow. She glanced around. "Lucky for you I recognize this place—we're close," she added, addressing Wilson.

"Lucky for you I keep my ear to the ground," Maxwell intercepted.

"Yes, we're still in danger; tell me something I don't know." Then, to Wilson: "Start battening down—it's going to get rough."

"Aye, captain," Wilson said weakly, giving up on attempting to influence what was apparently a family matter. He started tying things down.

Maxwell, meanwhile, was still conversing with Willow. "I'm not talking about Mr. Skits and that big walking furball—"

Wilson tied a knot on the gunwale. A horse whinnied.

Wait, what?

He found himself face to face with a horse.

Wilson decided he was still asleep. Otherwise, why would a horse be—

He blinked. It was mechanical. Like—

He reeled backwards as several clockwork automatons leaped on board.

"Ah," Maxwell noised; it occurred to Wilson that the man had been caught flatfooted. "Well, you can see for yourself—toodles!"

He gave a little finger wave and vanished into the deck with a small _poof_.

"How did he do that without damaging the boat?" Wilson asked.

"No idea," Willow said promptly. "Could you focus on the bigger problem at hand?"

Of course—how could he not? Horse-headed bipedal accordions, along with those bishop-crickets, like the one Wilson had encountered—

He realized he recognized one of them.

"You!" he blurted.

The bishop in question looked startled, and then scared as the others turned to him. Wilson belatedly remembered his promise. "You—you gave me _horrible _directions!" he continued.

The automatons relented, to the bishop's relief.

"What's going on?" Willow asked, giving Wilson a strange look.

"_You are being boarded, fleshlings."_

Wilson glanced to see a…a _robot_ land on deck. It was humanoid in shape, all brass and bolts—and moving perfectly! What a moment for science!

"Will you stop drooling?" Willow asked.

"Huh?" Wilson noised.

_"I agree—it's disgusting,"_ the robot said. Then, narrowing its eyes at Willow (it had that capability! What a machine!), "_You—are to surrender the master cable."_

Willow glared. "First, I don't know _what_ you're talking about. Second, who says?"

The robot clicked its metallic fingers.

One of those shadowy bird-monsters from the Shadow Man's lair scuttled forward, holding a cathedral radio in its sizeable mouth.

_"To answer both questions: a word from our sponsor,"_ the robot said, adjusting a dial.

A familiar voice oozed out of the device.

_"Well well well, you're a little far from home, aren't you?"_ The Shadow Man asked. "_Don't you know you're heading in a very dangerous direction?"_

"We've been informed," Wilson muttered.

"What do you want?" Willow snapped.

_"Just a little something you've stolen from me,"_ the Shadow Man purred.

"I don't have it," Willow answered promptly. "The ninny here broke it."

"Your speed in throwing me under the bus is duly noted," Wilson told her.

"_What?"_ The Shadow Man asked, confused. "_Oh, the fire gem!"_ it started laughing, a sound that made all the hair on Wilson's neck stand on end.

The robot moved its hand next to its head in the universal "cuckoo" gesture.

_"I'll admit, losing the gem was…upsetting,"_ the Shadow Man continued. "_But I'm willing to forget everything in exchange for one thing: **the master cable you're using as a belt."**_

Wilson and Willow both looked at the article in question. "If that's all it wants," Wilson murmured, eager to have one less thing to worry about.

"Hold it," Willow said, holding a hand up. "What's so important about this thing that you're willing to forget the gem?"

Chuckling from the radio. "_Oh you'll see—if you happen to still be around this afternoon!"_

Wilson glanced at Willow, whose mouth was held in a thin line. "And what happens if we _don't_ hand it over?"

_"Then you get woefully acquainted with WX-78 and its compatriots, and I get the cable anyway. You have a minute to decide. Have a good day!"_

Static.

_"What will it be, humans?"_ the robot—which must have been WX-78—asked.

Wilson glanced around, nervous—

Spotted the fire staff, with maybe one use left—

Glanced up, saw pipes snaking above.

"I may have an idea," he hissed to Willow.

"I suggest you act on it," Willow returned.

Wilson suddenly pointed alarmed. _"Great jumping ions! What is that?"_

The robots didn't seem impressed. _"Seriously?"_ WX-78 asked.

Wilson glanced at the bishop, who nodded slightly and turned around.

_"No wait! I see it too!"_ it exclaimed.

_Now_ they turned and looked, just enough for Wilson to grab the fire staff.

WX-78, however, was sharper than that. It leapt for him, exclaiming _"No you don't, fleshling!"_

Wilson shot a fireball into it in alarm, and then swung it up to shoot the pipe—

Water fell from the broken pipe as the staff burst apart in his hands. Wilson fell to the floor, stunned, as the one bishop leapt out of the way and the others short-circuited in the sudden deluge—

"Hold on!" Willow cried, dodging for the controls. The boat leapt forward, sending Wilson crashing to the deck and sliding to the back thanks to the water laying on it, saved from electrocution by the fact that the sudden surge knocked the clockwork contraptions into the river—

All but one, he found out as he was forcefully hauled to his feet and decked by the sparking WX-78.

He went spinning as WX-78 grabbed Willow and flung her away from the controls. She slipped, struggled to her feet, scrambled away from it—

Wilson struggled to get to his feet. The robot had struck him quite hard, obviously violating the laws of robotics. Asimov had failed him. He managed to get upright—

Wait, what was that noise?

He frowned when he spotted three spiders—two black, one striped yellow—doing their best imitations of an alarm—

His irritation with the spiders was quickly forgotten when he saw the rapids that the boat was heading for.

"_Willow!"_ he hollered, springing for the controls, trying frantically to steer the ship away from imminent doom. No such luck—the rapids had them in its pull, and they were being quickly sucked in.

"_What are you doing!?"_ Willow shrieked, grabbing one of his arms. "_Let go of my ship!"_

"_Release the helm, fleshling!"_ the robot commanded, grabbing his other arm.

"_Please! At least one of you, use your sense!"_ Wilson hollered, straining to make himself heard over the sound of the spiders shrieking. "_What's generally at the end of a set of rapids!?"_

They both stopped struggling as that sank in. "Oh dear," Willow breathed.

"_The fleshling has a point,"_ WX-78 stated.

They joined the spiders in shrieking in alarm as the waterfall came into view.


	17. The Sudden Uptake

**Chapter 17, ladies and gents! How will our heroes escape from the clutches of an irritable robot? Um….**

**Loli-otaku, thanks for the review! Aha, yes! Robots refuse to fall for the oldest trick in the book! :D That would explain why Charlie was so cool to him in Chapter 12, come to think of it….Thanks! You too! I hope you have a happy New Year too! :D**

**We will be resuming our normal update schedule next year—which is also next week. ;)**

_**Don't Starve **_**© 2013 Klei Entertainment**

_**Flushed Away **_**© 2006 DreamWorks/Aardman Studios**

It was the wait that was the worst part, Wilson decided.

Those horrible, charged moments before the boat reached the waterfall, where there was absolutely nothing they could do to avert their fate—he was almost glad when it was over.

Almost.

Willow, however, had been ready, and launched that claw the boat possessed and caught an overhead pipe.

Unfortunately, the way it caught transformed the deck from a horizontal position to a vertical position. They went tumbling.

Wilson managed to catch the stern of the boat, looked frantically for Willow, was alerted to her location by a yank on his leg that threatened to dislocate the limb. He hid his face as assorted odds and ends fell out of the boat and into a bottomless pit—bottomless, he knew, until the sudden and fatal uptake.

A whirring and clunking alerted him to the fact that he had more immediate problems.

"_Well, fleshlings, this is convenient!"_ WX-78 exclaimed, extending an arm and snatching Willow's belt—the master cable—away. "_The only way I was to return without you is if you fell down a bottomless pit—and there's your precise fate!"_

Wilson watched despairingly as WX-78 climbed to safety. "Wait!" he blurted. "What about Asimov's laws of robotics? You can't allow us to come to harm!"

The robot shrugged upon reaching the pipe. "_Alas, that is not my concern. Perhaps if I had my empathy module—but no matter."_ It began loosening the boats claw, pulling one "finger" loose at a time. "_Goodbye, fleshlings! With your inane yammering!"_

The boat jerked as it dropped slightly. Wilson was knocked loose, scrambled for purchase, and knocked loose something in the back before regaining his hold.

_"Your vulgar body functions!"_

Another finger. Tugging on his pants leg.

Wilson looked down to see Willow pointing at what had come loose—a chute.

_"Your inability to follow clearly printed instructions!"_

Another finger. He nearly cut himself grabbing a knife where it had fallen, then lowered himself to begin sawing away at the ropes as Willow burned through some others.

"_And the overall mayhem you bring! Good bye and good riddance!"_

The last finger of the claw, and the _Jammy Dodger_ was plummeting to its doom.

But its crew was not.

"I'll take that!" Willow said, snatching the master cable away from an absolutely stunned WX-78 as she and Wilson soared on the draft.

_"How dare you survive?"_ the robot spluttered, once it had recovered. _"I'll get you for this, fleshlings!"_

_"Pttbth!"_ noised the alarm-spiders, blowing raspberries as they drifted up on an umbrella.

Wilson tried to crane his neck and see where they were going, if they were doomed to strike the ceiling, but it was getting progressively lighter, they might make it—

Dimly, he heard Willow murmur.

"Goodbye, _Jammy_, old pal."


	18. The Payment

**Hey, everybody! So this is 2015!...I was expecting more flying cars and hoverboards….**

**Anywho, here's chapter 18, which involves high altitudes, named lockboxes, and the return of the singing spiders (such fun!).**

**Kimberly Cleo Sincerely, thanks for the review! I'm glad you've been enjoying the ride thus far! :D Thank you, I'd like to blame watching ****_Flushed Away_**** too many times and logging more hours on ****_Don't Starve_**** than is probably healthy. And thank you—I will! Most definitely, as a matter of fact—I finished writing the whole thing up during New Year's. :)**

**_Don't Starve _****© 2013 Klei Entertainment**

**_Flushed Away _****© 2006 DreamWorks/Aardman Studios**

For a single blinding moment, Wilson refused to believe that they had actually escaped. But this—this was the _sun!_

He opened his eyes—

And immediately wished he hadn't.

"_AAA!"_ he screamed, clinging tighter to the ropes of the chute. "Oh that is high, that is very, _very_ high—"

"Are we over London?" Willow asked, glancing about, obviously impressed with her surroundings.

"_Aaa_ yes yes, we're…." he glanced about. "We're over Kensington! We're almost there!"

"Just a small five-hundred foot drop between you and a warm bed!" she called, voice tinged with hysteria.

"Yes! Yes! Just let me see—" he glanced about frantically for his street, found it, counted off the numbers— "There! Right there! Come on, _tug!"_

He yanked a bit on his side of the chute, she did on hers to straighten it out, left right left right, until they were practically over his flat—

And then the chute gave out.

"Oh dear," was all Wilson had time for before they fell through the roof.

* * *

><p><em>"Oof!"<em>

_"Ow!"_

_"Ooh,"_ Wilson moaned, rolling to his knees. If he never fell again it would be too soon. Look at the hole in his roof!

Wait—

"We made it," Wilson breathed, hardly able to believe it. "_We made it!"_ he shrieked, dancing around on his knees, too excited to stand. "The crew of the _Jammy Dodger_ survives!"

Wait—

He looked about frantically, spotted Willow hale and hearty, but standing there with a look of pain on her face. "Willow?" he asked tentatively.

She looked at him and shrugged.

It was then that it hit him. "OH! Oh, Willow, I'm sorry, I'm so stupid," he said, getting up and going to stand by her.

"No…well, you _are_, but that's not the point," Willow muttered. She glanced around. "Wow, you really live in a dump, don't you?"

Wilson glanced around with a grimace. She had sounded very much like Maxwell then, but now he could actually see their point. "The, ah, new skylight is actually an improvement," he noted, glancing up to see two holes in the roof, distinctly shaped like himself and Willow. Even the shape of his hair was outlined—how ridiculous.

He smirked, hand up to point it out to Willow, when he noticed she still looked down. "Oh, wait! Hold on—I nearly forgot!" he blurted, running about and quickly rummaging through his stuff. Where did he put it, where?—

Ah, _there_ was his lockbox—where he stored all his money and more expensive materials. Hidden very carefully away in a pile of junk, old and battered to the point that no one would notice it—granted, it was more of a _lunch_box than a _lock_box, but it still served the purpose well.

"This is yours, Miss Willow," he said, presenting it to her proudly. "Payment for getting me safely back up top!"

She looked at the ruddy orange box. "_Chester?"_ she asked, reading the faded name.

"Ah, _ahem_, well," he coughed, clearing off a spot on the table and setting it down. "I bought it secondhand. _But!"_ he opened it. "See? Authentic gems for laser work—they'd sell for a nice price, I'm sure—you could build the _Jammy Dodger Mark II_—some gold and copper I usually use for wiring—and a few pounds—I don't know how much _that's_ worth back…."

It hit him then. He stopped dead and looked at her.

This was it.

She had gotten him back home, as promised, and he had just paid her, as promised.

There was no reason for her to stay.

"Um," he noised, closing the lid gently. "I don't suppose…you'd…."

"Want to see whatever it is you've been raving about?" Willow supplied. "I suppose so."

"Right!" Wilson said, grasping at that straw. "It's right over here—"

He pulled the tarp off of his science device with a flourish.

"Very nice," she noised, looking at it. "So what does it do?"

Wilson had a finger up, ready to answer her—

And drew a blank.

"Um, well," he noised, putting a hand to his mouth. "It's been a while, you realize, and a lot has happened…."

"You forgot, didn't you?"

Wilson flushed red at the statement. "Um…yes….But give me a second, I'll have it figured out—"

"That's all right," Willow interrupted. "I should really go."

Wilson stood there, unable to articulate anything.

She gave him a small smile. "I suppose this is goodbye, then," she said, attempting some of her old toughness.

"Willow, wait," he said, catching her hand as she turned for the table. She glanced sharply at him.

"You could stay," he said softly, not letting go of her hand. "There's nothing that dictates that you _have_ to go back there."

She pressed her lips together. "There's nothing that dictates that _you_ have to stay _here_," she countered.

"It's safer here."

She shook her head. "I don't fit in here, Wilson—_you_ do. And my family…." She tore her hand out of his. "I have to go," she announced, grabbing the lockbox and fleeing out the door.

"Willow! Wait!" Wilson called, hand up, rooted to the spot.

She was gone.

_Gone_.

And he'd never see her again.

He let his hand fall, realizing that perhaps it was for the best. He didn't have room in his life for her anyway. What with his science and all—

_It just seems lonely, that's all._

He felt his heart squeeze at the memory, scowled and tried to brush it off—

Oh no. He did _not_ hear singing—

The trio of spiders on the umbrella drifted through the hole he had made in the roof. Wilson grabbed the umbrella and headed for the window.

_"Lonely,_" they sang. _"I'm Mr. Lonely, I have nobody, to call my own, LAAAAAA—"_

He tossed them out the window and slammed it shut.


	19. The Revelation

**Chapter 19, everybody! :D**

**From here until the last chapter, things will deviate a bit from the movie, as I didn't set the climax up like that (no liquid nitrogen, no game to guarantee everyone's in the city plaza, no halftime to give a specific time, etc., et al…).**

**Loli-otaku, thanks for the review! Yes, I know! Shame on you, Wilson! *throws boomerang at him*Ah, I wasn't really looking forward to writing that chapter—writing emotional/romantic scenes makes me nervous. *~* I'm glad you liked it though, even if it ****_did_**** make you want to throttle Wilson. :)**

**Kimberly Cleo Sincerely, thanks for the review! I think something got deleted out of that first sentence, though. Thank you! Normally I have a hard time finishing things because I just don't want to end it, so these movie rewrites have been helping me get over that. Yes, school first—I generally try to have at least a dozen or so chapters written so I have a buffer in case something happens, like a major assignment. It helps. :) (bummer—did you try reinstalling your driver?)**

_**Don't Starve **_**© 2013 Klei Entertainment**

_**Flushed Away **_**© 2006 DreamWorks/Aardman Studios**

Willow managed to make it around a corner and down a dark alley before she broke down sobbing, sliding down the wall to sit on the ground, holding tightly to the lockbox and doing a fairly good job of crying her eyes out.

What was wrong with her? She had been glad to get rid of him, had looked forward to doing so the whole trip—

So why was she so upset about leaving him?

"Say, pal, you don't look so good."

"Not now, Uncle Max," she managed to get out, wiping her eyes frantically. She was not one to show emotion, and she didn't need to be teased for this later.

Maxwell leaned against the wall opposite her and lit a fresh cigar. "I take it you successfully got rid of the nerd," he observed. "So what's the matter? He didn't pay you enough?"

She shook her head vehemently, resolving that she would never, _ever_, tell _anyone_ the real reason she was crying—she didn't even like the reason herself. "Just take me home. Please. I want to go home."

* * *

><p>He sent her on her way.<p>

But he had something else to do before he followed.

Maxwell walked to the end of the alley and around the corner to glare at the flat with two distinctly person-shaped holes in the roof.

* * *

><p>"Say, pal, you don't look so good."<p>

"Go away," Wilson commanded flatly, not looking up from the position he had assumed after throwing the spiders out: sitting on the edge of his couch cushion with his head in his hands, elbows propped on his knees.

No such luck—the couch shifted slightly as Maxwell sat on the other end. "So!" the man announced, all false cheer. "Let's see, you angered the Shadow Man, tore the City up, drove multiple people to drink, insulted Willow and her family multiple times, started up a massive manhunt…let's see, what else? Oh! And you dropped Willow's livelihood down a hole. But congratulations! You're back home. Did I miss anything?"

Wilson looked up slowly. "Yes," he said slowly, through clenched jaws. "You neglected to mention that this is all _your fault!"_

Wilson was pleased to see that Maxwell leaped away in alarm as Wilson jumped up, emulating Willow and throwing anything and everything that happened to be handy at the time. Wrenches, screwdrivers, electrical doodads—all were fair play as Wilson flung them, punctuating his sentences with the throws, as Maxwell cowered behind a sheet of metal he was using as a shield.

"You! Dropped! Me! Down! There!" Wilson yelled. "If! You! Had! Left! Well! Enough! Alone! _None!_ Of! This! Would! Have! _Happened!_" Wow, that was a big chunk he had managed to throw. The small part of his mind that remained scientifically aloof wondered if he was fueled by anger at this point. "She! Would! Have! Never! Gotten! Snagged! By! That! Monster! And! She! Would! Have! Never! Touched! That! Master! Cable—"

Wilson froze mid-pitch. That tirade had made him remember the Shadow Man's lair, how his little scientist heart ached to try all those machines—

But those machines weren't the sort to trifle with, he realized. The waterways, the dead ends—they weren't _really_ dead ends, they were metallic doors keeping the water level down. And the Shadow Man's lair—the master cable—the floodgates! And if the Shadow Man got ahold of that cable—Willow!

Maxwell was peeking cautiously around his metal shield. "Say, pal, did you work it out of your system?"

He had worked it out all right.

"The master cable!" Wilson exclaimed, dropping the item he had been prepared to throw. He grabbed Maxwell's lapels to keep him from bolting. "That's why the Shadow Man wants the master cable! It runs the whole complex that runs the whole waterway system! The minute it gets it back, the whole city will be washed away!"

Maxwell went pale at the information; Wilson recalled what Willow had said about Charlie—no wonder.

"Maxwell, I need you to send me back," Wilson commanded, tightening his grip on the man's lapels.

Maxwell had managed to stand now, and grabbed Wilson's lapels with one hand, leaving the other free—probably to hit him. "And what's it to you?" Maxwell asked, his voice surprisingly level. "Why is it so important that _you_ go running straight back to the place you just managed to escape from? There's nothing down there you care about."

Wilson felt a jaw muscle twitch at that. Maybe not the first time he and Maxwell had exchanged altercations in this room, but this time around…. "Yes, there is."

Wilson was surprised to see the edges of Maxwell's mouth twitch up in a triumphant smirk. "Fine then."

And then the ground opened up beneath Wilson.


	20. The Semi-Triumphant Return

**Chapter 20! And Liam-movie later tonight. :)**

**Maxwell's moment here is inspired by a similar experience my Mom had in a Wal-Mart—yep, Mom can whistle like that.**

**_Don't Starve _****© 2013 Klei Entertainment**

**_Flushed Away _****© 2006 DreamWorks/Aardman Studios**

The Shadow Man paced back and forth, irritably awaiting fresh news.

When WX-78 had returned with the news that the two _miscreants_ had escaped to the human world—well, first he had been furious that they escaped his clutches, _then_ he had been furious that they had reached the human world by a means that was injurious to him. Direct sunlight such as that made him weak…but his plans and the power he would gain would allow him to blot out the sun, razing the human world one city at a time….But for the master cable!

So he had commanded every last one of his shadows to be on the lookout for Miss Willow. That man might stay in his own world (and be safe only for a short time), but Willow had forged loyalties—she would return, sure as night always fell.

So when one of his shadows came scurrying, telling him that they had captured Willow, he knew just the face to assume and mar with his horrible smile.

"You," he said, pointing to one of the shadows. "Get me Maxwell. And _you_," he said, pointing at a different shadow. "Get me Charlie."

* * *

><p>Willow kicked and screamed and howled bloody murder, but it did nothing to loosen DC's iron grip.<p>

Mr. Skits scurrying around DC's arm and perching on his fist didn't help any either.

"Boss! _Boss!"_ Mr. Skits hollered, beside himself with glee. "We've got her! We've got her! _And we've got the master cable!"_

DC dropped her, any viable escape cut off by shadows scuttling everywhere. Well, no matter, there had to be a way—

"Ah, _splendid!"_

Willow froze, recognizing the voice. No. No. The Shadow Man mimicked whoever it was facing—it couldn't hold another face for very long—

But she turned—

And saw Wilson.

She forced herself to blink and concentrate. No. It wasn't Wilson—the angles were too sharp, the suit he was wearing was too dark—and Wilson would never have a smile like _that_.

Fresh anger boiled in her as the Shadow Man stood in front of her. There was _no_ way this monster could have guessed what its appearance would do—or maybe it did. _Had it been that obvious?_ She thought, irritated.

"You seem troubled, Miss Willow," it said, affecting—not its own fake concern from years of imitating the myriad humans that had made the unfortunate trip to its lair, but the tone that Wilson would have used. "Oh, that's right—you've lost your gentleman scientist. What a pity—you should be more careful with your things." It walked around her, gaining that horrible smile and marring Wilson's features once again. "Oh by the way, how do you like my new look? I've decided to keep this one—I _do_ love the hair." It paused when it was in front of the window, silhouette all sharp angles. "Ah, before I forget—speaking of things…_you have something of mine, Miss Willow."_

Mr. Skits snatched her belt away and scuttled over to the Shadow Man. Willow surreptitiously snuck a rope out of her pocket and used it to replace her belt—anything to keep her hands busy and her mind off of the impending doom she was certain was coming.

"Finally!" the Shadow Man barked, snatching the cable away and heading up a flight of steps. "I am absolutely _surrounded_ by idiots," she heard it mutter. "Fortunately, that won't be a concern much longer."

As the lights came back on in the Shadow Man's lair, Willow reflected that that was not a good sign.

* * *

><p>Wilson landed flat on his face in the city square.<p>

"Say, pal, you need to work on your landings," Maxwell observed.

Right now, that wasn't his main concern. As he scrambled to his feet, Wilson was already moving, trying to see over the crowd and calling Willow's name.

Behind him, Maxwell took off a glove, stuck his pointer and thumb in his mouth, and let out an ear-piercing whistle.

All activity in the square ceased as everyone turned to them. "If your name isn't Willow, go about your business," Maxwell commanded. People did so, muttering to themselves.

"Would you mind providing a little more warning before you do that again?" Wilson asked crossly.

"Like your way was working any better," Maxwell shot, pulling his glove back on.

"Ahem," came from Wilson's elbow. Wilson turned—

And shrieked in alarm when he recognized one of those shadow-ticks.

It spared him a glance before scuttling over to Maxwell.

"The Shadow Man requests your presence at once," it said.

"Tell him I'm busy," Maxwell said, shooing it off.

"I can't," it said; Wilson had the impression that it wasn't terribly bright. "He's busy hosting Miss Willow."

Wilson and Maxwell exchanged glances.

"We'll be right up," Wilson told it.


	21. The Dramatic Rescue

**Chapter 21, everybody! How will our intrepid heroes get out of ****_this_**** one? Good question….**

**Loli-otaku, thanks for the review! Ooh, snark—I may have to review these upcoming chapters and make sure there's some in there (because snark is very fun to write). I am too—hopefully the ending pleases. :)**

_**Don't Starve **_**© 2013 Klei Entertainment**

_**Flushed Away **_**© 2006 DreamWorks/Aardman Studios**

"Say, pal, you don't look so good."

"You took your time getting here, didn't you?" the Shadow Man asked, appraising Maxwell through half-lidded eyes.

Maxwell just lit another cigar. There was something very important he had learned throughout his career as a street magician: never let them know what you're thinking. It was the main reason he kept up his smoking habit, even though Charlie disapproved—it gave him a moment to compose himself.

Now here was hoping the yutz scientist didn't screw _his_ part of the plan up….

The Shadow Man, true to form, took his silence as a cue to continue talking. "I have good news for you—your services are no longer required."

That _did_ make Maxwell react, although he was quick to catch it. "This is news," he said evenly.

"Well, now that the master cable is back, I don't need you to bring anyone else here," the Shadow Man said. "Oh yes," it added, as though something occurred to it. "That means I don't have to honor our agreement anymore either."

With that statement, it snapped its fingers.

A Terrorbeak dragged a struggling Charlie out.

"Well well! I've finally cracked that composure of yours!" The Shadow Man crowed. "Ah, before I forget, we have a few more guests to this party."

The horrid screech told him just what the Shadow Man had planned for Charlie. A gesture from the Shadow Man alerted him to where DC was standing, holding Willow over the precipice.

"You have one chance," the Shadow Man said. "You can tell me where that miscreant is now, or you can try to save either your wife or your adoptive niece. You don't have time to save both."

There was Charlie held near the edge of a pit that most obviously housed the Screecher. And there was Willow, being held over a fatal fall. And both were silently begging for him to save them, but simultaneously looking guilty for wanting him to pick them.

There was one thing that Maxwell hated, and that was being in a situation beyond his control. The only thing he could hope for was Wilson being poised to save who he didn't. But he couldn't look to see if he was—that would give the whole thing away. He had to do something he wasn't used to doing: trusting someone else.

So he made his decision. He hoped he could live with it later.

He dashed for Charlie, the Terrorbeak shoved her in, she screamed, the Screecher shrieked—

But then Maxwell was there too, catching Charlie and spinning so he'd hit first—

And when he hit the ground, he used his shadow travel.

"We're fine, we're fine," he soothed, patting Charlie on the head and holding her close to still her shaking sobs.

He just hoped that Willow was the same.

* * *

><p>Wilson stood poised for a dramatic rescue.<p>

He sincerely hoped this swiftly concocted scheme would work.

Maxwell cleared the Shadow Man in his dash for Charlie, and Wilson launched himself in the air.

As he swung for Willow, it took quite a bit of self-control not to let out a Tarzan yell.

He snatched the screaming Willow out of the air, managed to get a glimpse into the pit that Maxwell and Charlie had fallen into—

Willow was sobbing. "No! No! They're fine!" Wilson exclaimed.

And then they were spinning, and he saw that DC had grabbed the rope—

And then they were flat on their backs, wind knocked out of them.

"That could have gone better," Wilson gasped.

"I couldn't have said it better myself."

Wilson looked up to see himself looking down at him, arms crossed. It took a few moments for what he was seeing to register.

"Oh dear," he managed, before the Shadow Man hauled him to his feet.


	22. The Big Plan

**Chapter 22, everybody! In which Wilson Percival Higgsbury takes some notes from ****_The Incredibles…._**

**_Don't Starve _****© 2013 Klei Entertainment**

**_Flushed Away _****© 2006 DreamWorks/Aardman Studios**

Wilson wasn't given much time to register what was going on before the Shadow Man reared back and punched him.

But oh what a punch it was. WX-78's earlier strike was a love tap by comparison. As he hit the ground, Wilson was surprised that his jaw was still intact.

And then he heard Willow screaming, and thoughts of broken jaws went clear out the window.

He leapt up, saw the Shadow Man dragging her by her ankles towards the pit that held that screeching owl-monster. He dashed over and grabbed her wrists, trying to pull her away.

"Should we help them, Mr. Skits?" he heard DC rumble.

"Nonsense! The boss has it under control!" Mr. Skits replied happily. Wilson could almost picture the little shadow happily munching away on popcorn and waving DC off as he said it.

Wilson managed to jerk one of Willow's ankles free, and she used the newfound freedom to kick the Shadow Man in the face as hard as she could.

The Shadow Man let out a…_yowl_, Wilson was going to say, so loud and so _unworldly_ that it made his hair stand on end. The important thing was that it let go of Willow—he hauled her to her feet and sped away, dragging her in his wake.

"Well, maybe he'll need a little help," he heard Mr. Skits mutter.

And then a shrill whistle, and then the floor was alive with those shadow monsters. And they looked menacing—shadow teeth shouldn't have affected them, but considering how many _other_ things that shouldn't have worked did, he wasn't taking any chances. They skidded to a halt.

An angry snarl prompted him to turn around.

_So that's what I'd look like with a broken nose,_ Wilson mused. Granted, he was pretty sure he wouldn't have shadows wicking off of him like the Shadow Man did, and he was pretty sure he'd never, _ever_, look _that_ furious.

"Kill them," it hissed.

"Wait! _Wait!"_ Wilson begged, holding his arms up. "Can't you at least tell us _why_ you're doing all this?"

The shadows stopped and glanced at the Shadow Man, who narrowed its eyes.

"You're going to kill us anyway," Wilson continued. "We're hopelessly outnumbered, we pose no threat—you lose nothing from telling us, and you get the added bonus of letting someone know just how clever you are!"

"What are you doing?" Willow hissed.

Wilson shushed her quickly—if he got the Shadow Man talking, it would delay their imminent demise. If he got the Shadow Man talking, he might have enough time to figure out a way out of this.

If he got the Shadow Man talking, he might have enough time to use the weapon Maxwell had given him….

The Shadow Man was smoothing its suit, obviously debating. "Fine," it said finally. "Although the plan was always pretty simple.

"Step one: drag a goodly number of humans down here. That's where your _dear_ uncle came in so handy," it said to Willow. "He was so eager to get out of mediocrity and poverty that he was willing to do _anything_ to have the biggest and best magic show—right up until I dragged him and his pretty little assistant down here."

Wilson felt Willow shrink behind him. He didn't feel too well himself—he probably would have jumped at the opportunity to be the best scientist, had he been in Maxwell's position.

"After that, it was simply a matter of biding my time, making Maxwell drag more people down here occasionally—"

"Once a month," Willow muttered.

"I _could_ have made it once a week, or once a day," the Shadow Man corrected, holding up a sharp finger. "But I suppose I wasn't expecting his bargaining skills—even with his wife hanging in the balance, he managed to worm his way into a more beneficial deal for himself.

"But no matter—with him bringing people in, my shadows bringing others in, letting them breed like rats while I was busy making monsters to keep them all in one place….That's where your _dear_ adoptive father became a thorn in my side—insisting on exploring while having his little house out of the way and away from the rest. Oh yes, I know _precisely_ where they are," it sneered upon hearing Willow's little gasp. "And I've sent a few little Screechers of mine to go keep them company. After all, I can't let them miss out!"

Something occurred to Wilson. "But your monsters weren't doing their job," he said carefully. "They're not attacking people like you wanted them to."

"Unfortunately," the Shadow Man said; Wilson could tell it had finally warmed to being expansive about its plans. "That's the problem with making something with a brain—it thinks for itself and then there it goes. WX-78 and its companions were pretty useful," it added, waving over to where WX-78 was standing, eyes narrowed. "But they're weak to water, unfortunately—and look what you're surrounded by!

"But I _finally_ hit on the perfect monster with the Screecher," it said fondly, indicating the pit from which horrendous screams still emerged. "Attracted to light, but attacks in the dark, relentless pursuer, debilitating attacks, and—if it bites right—it can turn its victim into the next generation of Screecher!"

Willow whimpered. Or maybe it was Wilson—he was having a hard time telling, picturing such a horrid fate.

"_Nine years_," the Shadow Man hissed, approaching them with measured steps. "Nine years of plotting and planning, scraping and scheming, making sure that everything was _just right_—making sure that those _vermin_ stayed right in that drain I wanted them in—"

Wilson gave the master cable a quick glance. "And then you open the floodgates and drown them all," he said slowly. "But why?"

The Shadow Man's chuckle alerted him to the fact that it was standing right in front of him. "Because I _need_ such a disaster in order to harness enough energy to break through to your world. All that pain and misery and despair in one place, when the dams break and the floodgates fail and the Screechers mop up the rest of the mess—it will be _glorious_."

Wilson crossed his arms quickly to disguise a shiver—the Shadow Man's eagerness for human suffering was disturbing in the worst way possible—

And in crossing his arms, he hid one hand sneaking into his pocket….

"That's a…that's a fairly solid plan," Wilson tried, still stalling for time.

"Not enough," the Shadow Man said, tilting its head. Wilson felt his stomach turn at the sight of black blood on his own face. "Because apparently, one so-called gentleman scientist and a pyromaniac were enough to nearly destroy it! But no matter—you're about to become Screecher food, if you're lucky. Hopefully, you won't be that lucky—I hear the turning process is exceedingly painful."

Out of time.

Wilson found what he was searching for, pressing the purple gem set in the hilt as he swung his arm out, knocking the Shadow Man's reaching arm out of the way—

And slashing it across the chest with a blade as black as night.


	23. The Shadow Sword

**Chapter 23, everybody! Just a few more…. **

**Jael was a woman in the Biblical Book of Judges, who gave a fleeing enemy king refuge and then drove a tent spike through his skull while he slept. Don't ever let anyone say the Bible is boring! :)**

**The description of the dark sword here is in reference to Disciple of Ember's story ****_Long Live the King_****, which has to be one of the best—if not ****_the_**** best—fanfiction I have read thus far. Go read it.**

**And finally, "bifurcation" means to split in half—I first heard the term in the ****_Lilo and Stitch_**** episode "Richter," and I've used it ever since. That was very sneaky of them, come to think of it….**

_**Don't Starve **_**© 2013 Klei Entertainment**

_**Flushed Away **_**© 2006 DreamWorks/Aardman Studios**

Wilson cried out in pain and alarm.

_Be careful with this,_ Maxwell had said, handing it to him. _Hopefully you won't have to use it, but if you do, keep in mind it'll leave you with a major headache._

_Major headache_ was an understatement. He felt victim to Jael, a tent spike driven through his skull.

It was shortly accompanied by a pain in his spine, as he fell flat on his rear from the recoil. Ow. Okay, this…sword…wasn't exactly the best thing to use….

He blinked. The small knife handle Maxwell had handed him had grown into a big black sword, made of…shadows. Okay….

But unfortunately, the shadow monsters were looking much more solid now. He scrambled to his feet, sword at the ready.

"I don't suppose you've got an extra one handy," Willow said, fishing in her pockets.

"You don't want one," Wilson said. "I don't think I remember my own name right now."

"That'll be being hit in the face," she said, pulling out a few sticks, a piece of flint, and a rope. "Cover me for a minute."

Before he could reply, a bird-shadow lunged at him, prompting the others to follow suit. Wilson swung, bifurcating several shadows and causing the others to shy back. Willow hopped up, spear in her hand, and set to stabbing several more.

**_"Enough!"_**

Shadowy tendrils whipped at them, knocking the shadow-sword flying and eliciting a cry of pain from Willow—Wilson shifted to stand in front of her—

And froze at the sight before him.

Wilson's silhouette was still recognizable, but any detail had been lost to scratchy blackness and spikes, sightless white eyes and razor sharp teeth marring what used to be a face—

The Shadow Man ran straight at them, claws outstretched—

And then it was sprawling on the floor.

"Say, pal, you don't look so good."

"_Uncle Max!"_ Willow exclaimed.

Maxwell was grinning down at the freshly-tripped Shadow Man, tapping a few ashes off of his cigar as he did so. "Well well! I see that composure of yours finally cracked!" he crowed; Wilson could tell he was relishing throwing its words back at it.

Maxwell hauled it to its feet before it could recover. "You _don't_ threaten my family," he hissed in its face; Wilson resisted the urge to run and hide. "And before I forget—we have a few more guests to this party."

And the nearby shadows disgorged a couple of owl-monsters—Screechers.

"One problem with your little _pets!_" Maxwell grunted as he threw the Shadow Man towards them. "They don't listen to _anyone—including you!_"

Wilson didn't stick around—he snatched up the sword and pulled Willow along behind him as he dashed to Maxwell. "You've got to get us out of here—"

A grinding noise cut off anything else he could have said.

The floodgates were rising.

"What?" Wilson gasped. "How!?—"

The answer came from a familiar cackle.

Wilson glanced up at the plate-glass windows to see Mr. Skits and DC waving down from the controls.


End file.
